Way Down We Go
by untrxvled
Summary: 'Cause they will run you down 'til the dark, and they will run you down 'til you fall, and they will run you down 'til you go so you can't crawl no more — 10 years have passed since Massie left for England, and nothing is as it seems in the picture perfect world of the Pretty Committee when they let their feet run wild and dare to look him in the eye. [Strong T/Mild M rating]
1. We'll Never Go Out Of Style

**𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫**

_She wasn't sure how it happened, but the one thing she did __know was that it would be something she'd always remember—his hands were quick and nimble, roving down every square inch of her body: memorizing the dips, the curves, the planes. Her underwear had been discarded somewhere between closing the bedroom door and being thrown down on the luxury mattress, his boxers still in tact, though for not much longer. She stroked him through the silky fabric, his breath hitches at the contact—the lust, the hunger, fills his eyes in such a way that she almost forgets to breathe. It had been so long since somebody had looked at her with that ferocity, the desire. Her fingers yanked the undergarments down, peeling them over his muscular legs, and flinging them across the room. He propped her up, one hand lifting her ass off the mattress while the other guided her leg left to dangling over his shoulder. Without any assistance, he successfully eased his way inside of the woman—she gasped at first, and then, a light moan escaped her. Slowly he was pushing, pushing, until his entire length filled her to the hilt. The tedious gesture already had her wanting more—her hands gripped at the middle of his back, her eyes locked on his as he towered above her, and clawed her manicured nails down to cupping at his firm, bare ass. _

_Gentle was thrown at the window, she was no flower, and he wanted to show her just exactly what she deserved. _

_His thrusts became lengthy, hard and furious. Their bodies bounced together, she rocked against him with all her might, and grinded her hips into his. He positioned his hips at various angles, determined to penetrate to her liking—her moans were growing louder, but the music downstairs drowned them out. She tingled from head to toe, hitching her leg higher and throwing the other one over his shoulder, wanting it as deep as possible. _

_"Harder," she whined. _

_"As you wish,"_

_And comply he did—their festivities went on for hours, well into the night, both of them fighting for domninance as they rolled around the queen size bed, and allowing their stark bodies to bask in the glow of the rising sun streaming in from the upstairs windows. Neither of them growing tired. Neither of them seeming to be able to get enough of each other. It was hard to tell where one person began, and the other ended._

* * *

𝔫𝔬𝔴

Alicia Rivera stood in front of the three-panel mirror, modeling a BCBG lace-illusion midi dress in _golden glow_, trying to decide if the color set right against her tan skin and if it was worth buying for the party she'd be attending later that evening. It almost resembled a flapper dress, which was kind of cute, but was this really the best she could do for the first event of the social season? Would it be enough to turn heads? Make people envious? Have people wish that they were her? She tapped her manicured nail against her bottom lip, cocking her head to the side—the closest to an opinion from a third party. It was unlike Alicia to be shopping alone, but thankfully that should be changing fairly soon, she just wanted to get there early to get a pick on the best dresses before her friends arrived.

"Knock, knock!" trilled the perky Claire Lyons, followed by a hearty _hello _from Dylan Marvil—their third and final best friend Kristen Gregory wasn't able to attend their shopping trip, but she was there in spirit—a.k.a., SnapChat.

"Ow, ow!" Dylan howled approvingly when they peered inside the dressing room to see the dress that Alicia was wearing. The Latina's face reddened.

"You look gorgeous, Leesh." Claire said.

"But she can do better," Dylan immediately decided after a quick thought, ducking behind Claire and disappearing into the racks of dresses that Bloomingdale's had to offer. Alicia quickly turned her face so that Claire couldn't read her expression in the mirror, keeping her eyes trained on the stained glass ceiling until she heard her friend return. "_This _is much more your style, Rivera." In her hand, a black Bronx and Branco 'Tiffany' lace midi dress with thick scalloped lace straps, a bustier styled top, asymmetrical hem and a sweetheart lining.

A few minutes later, Claire was helping Alicia zip up, leaving the hook-and-eye undone until a final decision was made on the dress.

"Wow," Claire's jaw dropped, "you are _smokin'_ hot."

"Dylan Marvil does it again," the redhead playfully bowed and curtsied at her job well done—and Alicia hadn't even chosen to keep the dress yet, but they all knew she would.

"Alright, your guys' turn!" Alicia clapped excitedly; Claire helped her out of the dress and Alicia was pulling her regular clothes back on.

"I've already got my sights set on this Adalyn Rae, but if it doesn't look good on me, we're scrapping my whole vision." Claire said, flouncing after Dylan and Alicia as they emerged back onto the floor.

"Forget that," Dylan waved her hand dismissively. "I'm gonna style you, too."

Claire's insides warmed, it was such an honor to be a guinea pig for the rising fashion icon. Ever since Dylan had graduated from FIT, she had taken things even more seriously than when they were pre-teens, and it was great to see Dylan on the rise to making a name solely for herself as a fashion designer, and/or, consultant. She loved putting outfits together for the girls, and usually, more often than none, she was successful in making them look _phenomenal_.

Dylan weaved between the racks, pawing through them with intense determination—that familiar crease forming between her eyebrows, her mouth pressing together just enough to give her that serious aura—until finally she plucked out a beautiful number just for her light blonde haired friend: a champagne gold Halston Heritage one-shoulder asymmetric pleated chiffon dress with a flounced illusion drop skirt.

"You are a fashion goddess, Dyl." Claire gushed, taking the dress from the redhead and holding it up to her body, swaying giddily back and forth as if she were a bride picking out wedding dresses.

"All in a day's work, ma'am," she playfully held up "finger guns" and blew at the tips of her fingers, before smirking and shoving her hand into her back pocket.

"What are you gonna wear?" Alicia inquired, smiling approvingly at the dress chosen for Claire.

"_That_ is a secret, _mon chéri_," Dylan mused. "You'll find out tonight at the party."

_Ding, ding_.

"One sec," Dylan said, opening her Rebecca Minkof satchel bag and rooting around for her iPhone XR, thumbing in her passcode to open up her most recent text message. "Damn, I gotta go," she pouted, "my mom wants to go over some things for tomorrow morning's show before I go to the party tonight."

"It's okay, Dyl. We'll see you later, 'kay?" Alicia smiler, pulling her in for a hug, and being joined by Claire in a threeway. All three of them giggling when they broke apart.

"Ta-ta!" Dylan kissed both of their cheeks, twisted on her heel and booked it for the exit, leaving Claire and Alicia alone for the first time in God knows how long.

"_So_," Alicia said as they made their way back to the dressing rooms so Claire could try on her dress before making the final decision. "Are you excited for tonight?"

Claire knew that Alicia was referring to the fact that this would be her and her husband's first night out, their first _date_, since before the birth of their one year old daughter, Shay. She had the entire night planned out in her head, and she could only hope that things went accordingly.

"Beyond excited," Claire replied, slipping behind the curtain and undressing herself to step into the dress that Dylan had picked, before stepping out into the cool air of the lobby. "What do you think?" She fluffed her blonde hair, then nervously tucked it behind her ear.

"I think you look amazing," Alicia said earnestly. "Cam is going to _die _and go to _heaven_ when he sees you in that tonight."

"Yeah?" She couldn't help the huge smile that popped onto her face, suddenly feeling like she was trying to impress her husband for the first time, as if they were twelve years old again.

"Absolutely," Alicia nodded.

.

Nearly two hours later, the town car rolled to a stop in front of the Fisher household on Weston Street—it had been a couple weeks since she'd last spent time at her in-laws, and they offered to babysit while she went shopping with her friends to find something to wear for the party. They would also be watching Shay overnight so Claire and Cam could enjoy themselves; a hotel room had been booked not even ten minutes later, a little something she could surprise her husband with for a real night out. Her black boxy Bloomingdale's bag swung from the crook of her elbow as she paid the driver, bid goodbye, and made her way over to the wooden porch.

"Hello, hello!" Claire tapped her knuckles against the frame three times before letting herself inside.

"You're back!" Gracelyn Fisher, Cam and Harris' mom, came bustling into view with a one year old attached to her hip. "Shay was just beginning to get antsy," She wriggled the little girl around to let her soften her hold on her grandmother, and once she did, Shay was immediately reaching out—Claire took her greedily, the small child clinging to her mother like a koala bear.

"Hey cutie," she kissed the top of Shay's head with a smile, holding her tight against her side.

"What did you find?" Gracelyn asked, gesturing to the bag hanging from Claire's arm.

"Dylan picked it out, it's so beautiful." Claire knocked the bag against her thigh, allowing Gracelyn to grab it from her so she didn't struggle, and when her mother-in-law peaked inside, she all but gasped.

"Wow, Claire, it _is _gorgeous." Gracelyn's tone was approving and it made Claire really happy; she always sought out to get both the mother's' acceptance when it came to these type of things, and she couldn't wait for her own mother to see them tonight. Shay giggles and clapped in her own approval when Gracelyn pulled the dress out all the way from the bag, admiring it.

.

"I'm here!" Dylan exclaimed, pushing open the front doors to her mother's A-frame mansion and throwing her bag onto the floor where it landed on a pile of forgotten shoes. She slipped off her mules, padding bare foot in search of her mother through the vast house—not much had changed since Dylan moved out three years ago, it still had its charm and luxurious taste to the extreme. More than likely her mother and sisters were in the middle of getting ready for the party, so she could only assume to find them in the walk-in closet, but _which one _would have to be the ultimate guessing game. "Helloooo?" She tried again, stomping up the spiral staircase in hopes of getting a clue as to where they might be.

"In here, Pickle!" called her mother, Merri-Lee. _Where is here? _She thought with annoyance, but thankfully the voice sounded nearby. If she had to place bets, it was the matriarch's bedroom where the three older Marvil women inhabited.

"Hi, mom!" Dylan bounded into her mother's room, as expected she found Merri-Lee modeling a vibrant black/fuschia embroidered Carmen Marc Valvo Infusion sheath V-neck dress with flouncy, romantic cuff sleeves. From where she stood behind her mom, she mentally was making a few adjustments, but the dress was do-able, depending on what her older sisters and herself decided to wear as well.

"Hey Dyl," the twins, Jaime and Ryan, greeted from their posts buried inside the closet, rifling through their mother's newest collection that was brought in.

"So glad you're here," Merri-Lee grinned at her daughter in the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling mirror. "I have a few things we need to discuss for tomorrow's show, everything _has _to be perfect, and I know you'll do me proud, Pickles."

Dylan glanced at the clock on the far wall, and inwardly groaned—hopefully this was quick so she could start getting ready for the party like everyone else. "Alright, let's do this."

Merri-Lee stepped away from the mirror and closed the distance between her and Dylan, placing one hand on her daughter's shoulder as she led her out of the bedroom so they could talk privately. When they were done discussing the dialogue and wardrobe changes, lighting adjustments, guest stars, etc., Dylan and Merri-Lee reentered the bedroom to see that Jaime had already zipped herself into a poppy red Bardot Carmelle cocktail dress with a frilly ruffle frame skirt and a thigh-baring slit. It wasn't so clashing with her red hair, and with a smoky eye, black heels, and a vibrant bag, Jaime could easily steal the show.

"Do you like it?" Jaime asked, her question more directed to Dylan than anyone else in the room, who nodded gleefully. It was nice that her sister cared about her opinion, even if it was just fashion, but it made her feel wanted. Needed.

"Dyl, can you style me?" Ryan leaped out of the closet, the high pile of designer dresses in her arms threatening to cause her to buckle under the weight.

"Yeah," she tried not to sigh—and while it was nice they cared to contribute to her new professions, it also got in the way of _Dylan _trying to look showstopping for the party like the rest of her family. In under seven minutes Dylan had found a rust (red orange) colored Tiger Mist Mason Ruched minidress with a crisscross cut out back that made diamonds against her smooth, acne free skin. The sleeves were long but Dylan quickly fixed that with a pair of scissors and a sewing needle, turning the discarded scraps into a garter to tie around her leg beneath the dress. Ryan's idea, but not really—Dylan let it slide just because she knows her sister's risqué style.

"I'm gonna go get ready," Dylan said, sparing one glance at the clock—she was proud to have done that for Ryan in record timing, including the strappy heels and bag to complete the look for everyone else.

* * *

The estate had been completely transformed; the French style manor was entirely remodeled—whether it just be for the lavish party or the homeowner was just feeling bored, it certainly did not disappointment. The floor in the foyer was made up of sparkling black granite, deep burgundy painted walls adorned with various oil paintings and contemporary decor—a gold teardrop chandelier glittered above head, the sweeping double staircase had a wide red carpet rolled out, and everything was polished to high shine. Off to the left was the parlor with wall-to-wall shelves lined with every book imaginable, the floor separating into an almost whiteish wood with an circular oriental rug taking up space in the center of the room—the stone fireplace was crackling lowly, the sofas and chairs made of vinyl and a deep shade of red to match the walls. A silver tray on a modern dresser behind one of the sofas bore whiskey and vodka for guests to help themselves through the duration of the party. Beyond that was the living room, bearing no difference to the parlor other than holding an 64" flat screen TV and glass cases filled with an impressive DVD collection, and the kitchen, all cherry wood and light marble, with state-of-the-art appliances that had to have been imported from high end restaurants along the East Coast—wrought iron tables, elegant chairs, heavy curtains and candelabras completed the connecting dining area in dark contrasting colors. An elegant high ceiling ballroom veering far right, two guest bedrooms, a hallway bathroom with a claw foot tub, and a private office was in waiting of the rest of the first floor. The upstairs had been prohibited to partygoers, but left to the imagination they could only imagine it looked just as fabulous as the rest of the house. For the party itself twinkling lights had been strung through the house, rose gold and lavender colored balloons drifted and floated around, and waiters dressed in white passed around the appetizers while the chef prepared dinner. Out in the yard, all the trees adorned the same lights twined around the trunks and branches, a DJ set up station by the cabaña, a nearby bartender distributed alcohol to those who showed ID, and multicolored changing filters kept the infinity pool alive for anyone who decided to take a swim. Fireworks were due to start being set off at 11:30pm to close out the evening.

Alicia and her boyfriend, Josh Hotz, were the first to arrive out of the Pretty Committee—he gave a quick kiss to Alicia on the cheek before scoping out the food set up and get them something to drink while they waited for their friends to show up. Various party guests gushed over her outfit, from the dress Dylan picked out to the eye catching lipstick red Osimo patent leather Salvatore Ferragamo 5" heels with the cute little bow on the toe, her makeup, and her 'beach waves' tousled raven black hair falling to the middle of her back. Her Ralph Lauren tote had been left in the Audi, by accident, but if she brought it with her she knew they'd be fawning over it too. Luckily, Olivia Ryan managed to swoop in and steal Alicia's attention from one of the many lawyers her father worked with that were attending the party—they weren't close like they used to be in school but they also didn't _not _associate at social events.

"You're the best," Alicia said gratefully, eyeing the ballet pink suede Jimmy Choo pumps she'd sweetly paired with an ivory **LIKELY **Elana ruffled-strap mini sheath dress. Her white blonde hair was curled in tight ringlets to frame around her heart shaped face, and her makeup was light—a pale pink lipstick, lightly dusted cheekbones and eyeshadow. "You look gorgeous by the way."

"So do you—I wish I could pull off something so sexy and bold," Olivia winked and smiled gleefully. Alicia's cheeks burned, she returned the smile politely.

While they were creating small talk, Josh finally slipped back over with a flute of pomegranate champagne for Alicia and a plate of cheeses wrapped in prosciutto. She had never been so happy to see him—that was a lie, but it gave her an excuse to bid goodbye to Olivia and delve into the party to find other people they knew. Dylan Marvil was holding court near the dining room, looking radiant as ever in a black Finder's Keepers Alchemy off the shoulder embroidered lace mini dress and 'sand glitter' Michael Kors peep toe pumps; her fiery red hair was tamed into a sleek high ponytail with a few tendrils falling around her face. She was in the midst of talking to another girl they went to school with, Allie-Rose Singer, and someone named Paige that she vaguely recognized as well.

"Hey Dyl," Alicia chirped, gently tugging on the sleeve of Dylan's dress, and the girl immediately turned to envelope Alicia in a hug.

"You look incredible," they gushed at each other, pulling back to get a better look at how they looked in their dresses—even though Dylan had picked out the dress the Latina wore and already seen her in it, the raven haired girl's effortless beauty would always blow her away.

"Hey!" Another voice cried, and they turned to see Claire teetering her way over with Cam in tow, throwing her arms around both the girls. The towhead looked so innocent, but entirely sexy, and Alicia had never been so proud. Cam and Josh did one of those long-time buddy handshakes and bro-hugged their greeting—allowing the boys to branch off so the girls could enjoy their night together. It was rare that the Pretty Committee had a chance to come together because of their hectic schedules.

"So what do you think the big announcement is?" Alicia asked, though her eyes were trained on Dylan, as they linked arms and began weaving through the thick crowd.

Dylan shrugged, and usually she was the first to know everything, courtesy of her mother being so in tap. "Probably just wanted an excuse to throw a party."

"I'm not complaining," Claire said as she whisked a glass of champagne off a passing tray, and both girls agreed—just as they were about to mingle off into the backyard, there was a loud crackling noise, and a loud thud. Alicia turned her head, craning just enough to see that the hostess was perched at the top of the staircase, holding a microphone because her voice would not carry well to both the inside crowd and outdoors.

"9.4," Alicia whispered to the girls, a throwback to their middle school days when they thought rating clothing made them superior to the fashion world. The hostess wore a light crystal blue BGBG strapless crepe gown with a high front slit and ivory Badgley Mischka satin-and-mesh embellished high heels; her hair was a darker brown than her skin tone called for but she pulled it off, cut into a J-shaped bob that bounced in corkscrew curls mid-neck-length.

"Evening to all my lovely friends," Kendra Block spoke smoothly into the microphone, held mere inches away from her bold purple lips. "I'm so glad you could all join me—as you know I'm always looking for an excuse to get everyone together, and tonight is a very special exception."

"Hey guys," a fourth voice whispered as Kendra launched into a speech, and the girls turned to see that Kristen Gregory had joined their group. The dirty blonde looked radiant in a light dream blue French Connection Whisper tie-back mini sheath dress and light beige Imagine Vince Camuto Priya embellished strappy heels; her hair twisted into a elegantly messy bun at the nape of her neck. In her hand, a wine glass filled with water, because it was a Tuesday and she had classes to teach the next morning. "Did I miss anything g—"

"—without further ado, as I'm sure you're tired of hearing me ramble, I'd like for everyone to give a round of applause for tonight's guest of honor, my daughter, Massie!"

Mid-swallow, the champagne sliding down Alicia's throat like silk, it suddenly went shooting back up through her nose and she started violently coughing. Immediately Claire, Kristen and Dylan started patting her back and trying to calm her down, all of their eyes wide when making contact.

.

Her entrance had been graceful, eye-catching and worthy of a Vogue photoshoot. Dressed in a shimmering gunmetal Aidan by Aidan Mattox metallic knit mermaid gown, with every slow step she took there was a brief glance at her black Gucci Ilse embellished ankle strap sandals. Her hair hung loosely down her back like a chestnut waterfall, deep conditioned and styled to perfection—all that was missing was a tiara, and she could pass for royalty. A black diamond bracelet was fastened on her right wrist and a gleaming rose gold charm bracelet dangled on the left; the Pretty Committee could recognize the clanging of charms from a mile away. She made her way through the party, greeting old acquaintances and family members that came just for her, kissing cheeks and patting shoulders, her cheeks hurting from fake smiling so much—her heart revved, anxious and filled with dread, as she saw herself get closer to her old friends, the people she was most nervous about coming face-to-face with.

She played it off as much as possible, saying hello to everyone else she could before circling back to the Pretty Committee, where they held court in the living room, talking quietly among themselves—probably about her, speculating her unexpected return. Maddie snagged a glass of Old Vine Zinfandel, lifting it to her berry stained lips, and taking a languid sip—a little liquid courage, perhaps. Just the teensiest taste of the wine was settling her frenzied nerves, her muscles relaxing with each gulp downed.

"Hey," she said, a soft and velvety purr behind her the rim of her glass.

.

It was an odd combination of emotions that swept through Claire—elation, she hadn't seen the brunette in years but had heard all about her accomplishments, _couldn't wait to congratulate her_. Anxiety, she hasn't spoken to Massie in two and a half years, _and their departing wasn't exactly pleasant_. Fear, Massie was the only person who knew the one thing about her that could quite literally _destroy everything she knows and holds dear_. Her palms felt sweaty, her heart was galloping faster than a horse on a racetrack, and the liquor was going to her head all at once. Would she vomit? Pass out? Both? Only time would tell.

She snuck a peak at her friends, studying them. They gave away no emotion as Massie entered their vicinity: Alicia was cool and calm, sipping at her champagne. Dylan was pretending to rifle through her bag in search of something as if it were crucial, a life or death matter at hands. Kristen was the only one who seemed to openly welcome Massie back into Westchester, her smile genuine, and together they talked with such animosity that a small voice in the back of Claire's mind wondered if they had been in contact even after all this time, after the fall out.

Sure enough, Massie gave her flashiest smile, teeth pearly white against her California tan in stark contrast to the dark color of her lips, "I'm so glad you guys came tonight." The tone was friendly, no hostility or venom that Claire expected when speaking to her old friends.

For a split second, Claire thought everything could go back to the way things were, _and then Alicia opened her mouth_.

"I guarantee you, Massie, that if we _knew _you were going to be at this party tonight, we _wouldn't _have made an appearance." The Latina said, a smug smirk quirking her lips. There was a twinkle in her brown eyes and Claire just looked down at the floor. "And don't think for _one second _that you can just waltz right back into town and turn things back to the way they were—_I _run this place now, so either bow down and align to me or go back to being a trashy little California intern."

Massie was silent at first, soaking up Alicia's words. Claire knew she was in over her head to think that they'd go automatically back to being best friends, pretend nothing ever happened, but each girl had their own reason for cutting ties with the girl standing before them. At first Claire thought Massie would back down, just flip her hair and walk away, but she made the mistake of looking up—and making eye contact with her.

"Alicia," her tone was sharp, razored to a point, but her voice was gentle and soothing. It was eerie, sending an icy shiver down Claire's spine. "Nobody _cares _what you have to say—I came over here to make nice, I was willing to let things slide from the way you _bitches _treated me towards the end of our friendship—"

"Massie, dear," Kendra Block's chirpy voice graciously interrupted, squeezing her way through to place her hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Sweetheart, I need your help outside." The urgency in Kendra's words made Massie sigh heavily, a discreet rolling of her eyes, but she could see that Alicia couldn't have been more grateful.

"I'll see you girls later, enjoy the party," Massie said, the expression and tone of her voice doing a complete one-eighty as she transformed into the perfect party hostess. A casual wave cast in their direction, Massie's amber eyes sliced Claire's with such vehemence, the ghost of a threatening smile on her face, that Claire felt her blood turn to ice.

"I need to go home," Claire swallowed hard, eyes searching for where her husband might've run off to. "Has anyone seen Cam?"

"What, why? Dinner hasn't even been brought out yet." Dylan pointed out.

"I'm not feeling good." She fibbed, making a disgruntled face for emphasis.

"Maybe it's because you haven't eaten yet," Kristen teased.

"I'll text you guys when we get back to the hotel," Claire promised, stepping away from her friends and elbowing her way gently through the sea of people to find where Cam was hiding out. More than likely she would find him staked out where there's alcohol, hanging with his best friends since childhood.

After what felt like an hour of searching, she finally found him loitering in the backyard by the DJ and bar, chatting easily with Josh, Alicia's boyfriend, and Kemp Hurley. Chris Plovert was flirting with the bartender over shots of whiskey, and much to Claire's surprise, Derrick Harrington was mingling with Olivia Ryan—come to think of it, she'd seen them together more than once at the party, now that she actually _noticed _them.

"Cam!" Claire flounced over to the boys, tucking her hair nervously behind her ear as she approached. "Cam? I'm not feeling good, can we go?" She tapped him on the shoulder, her drink long discarded on the way over to find him.

Her husband turned, his smile instantly making her insides melt. "Of course, Bear. Let's just say our goodbyes and we can head out."

_Thank God_, Claire smiled and reached out, lacing her fingers intertwined with Cam's once he hugged his friends so they could say goodbye to everyone else they knew; at least one good thing would come out of the evening—long overdue alone time for the married couple. Their sexual rendezvous, more alcohol, and room service, to make up for the last eon.

As they were making their exit, Claire accidentally made eye contact with Massie for the second time that night, and even though she didn't smirk or raise her eyebrows in _that _way of hers, Claire still wanted to get blackout drunk to forget even being at the party and make endless love to her husband in their Five Star hotel room.

* * *

**author's note: **_I'm attempting to rewrite my clique story and it's barely six months old, I think. I wasn't happy with how I started it so here's round two. I'm sorry if this seems all over the place, and for the watered down porn in the beginning. I promise it alludes to something—if you wanna take any guesses, feel free! And please leave reviews, I need to know what everyone thinks. _


	2. Don't Wait

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫

_A newly turned twenty one year old Claire Lyons sat at long glossy oak table in the Marvil's A-frame house, her wine glass untouched in front of her despite being there for well into an hour with all of her closest friends—or, almost all of them, anyway. She looked around at each familiar face, Alicia Rivera sat across from Claire and was scrolling through her phone with Kristen Gregory hovering over her shoulder. Dylan Marvil had taken charge of kitchen duties, wanting everything to be perfect for Claire's birthday dinner. Josh Hotz and Derrick Harrington were stationed in the living room where a PS4 had been hooked up—one of Dylan's own self-bought birthday presents from a couple months before. Chris Plovert was assisting Dylan in running things smoothly with the kitchen staff, and Kemp Hurley was apparently running late, as usual. Cam Fisher, Claire's husband of a year, had stepped out for a phone call that was private—he said there were some issues with the company, and his cell had been ringing nonstop the entire drive over. Claire pulled out her phone, checking for a missed text or call for what felt like the hundredth time in ten minutes, and swallowed a deep sigh. _

_"Everything okay, Bear?" A pair of hands rested on Claire's shoulders, the unexpected gesture causing her to jump slightly in her seat. Claire craned her neck to see that Cam had slipped back inside, and was helping himself to the seat beside her. _

_"Yeah, I was just—"_

_"You know there's no reason to hold onto her, right? She made her decision, all you girls did." Cam gently reminded his wife, moving his hand from her shoulder to resting atop her much smaller hand, curling his fingers around hers comfortingly. _

_"I know, but, still..." she turned her hand up to lace her fingers through Cam's, and half-smiled._

_"For all you know, she's visiting her parents and you know exactly how they can be," Cam suggested—it was a plausible reason for Massie Block to be AWOL, William and Kendra tried to obtain all of their daughter's attention whenever she took a trip out to London, but he didn't know the whole story. He was only privy to minimal details when it came to the girls' friendship, all of the boys were. _

_But all Claire said was, "you're right," and left it at that. _

_Once Cam had redirected his attention and the other boys, including Kemp Hurley, had flocked into the dining room, Claire pulled up her messages one more time and fired off another text to her (former?) friend—ᴍᴀssɪᴇ, ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴜʀ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇsᴇ. ᴘʟs ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ. ɪᴛs ᴍʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ. ᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ᴜ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ. But like the other six messages it went unread, and Claire's mouth tasted like pennies, just as it always did when she felt like she was going to throw up. _

𝔫𝔬𝔴

If there was one thing Massie Block was sure of, it was that her mother had brought all of the Pretty Committee members together on purpose—Kendra was fully aware of the severed ties her daughter had with those four girls, and to have the audacity to _invite_ them to a party in her honor, she had hopes of them salvaging their friendships now that they were older, wiser. More mature. But from the brief conversations she'd forced herself into having, any sign of reconciliation would continue to be off the table, for as long as any of them shall live. To look those girls in the eye and be _nice _to the girls who'd abandoned her hadn't been the worst part, but to watch them put on the façade that their lives were still perfect, untouched and flawless, _genuinely happy_ is what made Massie sick to her stomach. Especially when she came face to face with Claire, but of course there were appearances that had to be upheld and she couldn't exactly stab the blonde in the eye with her heel for being... well, _her_. Out of all four girls, breathing in the same air as Claire had exhausted her the most. It didn't help that Alicia opened her mouth, trying to be the reigning bitch Massie always knew her to be. As if Massie actually _cared _about being the queen on the social scene—she was back in New York for business, and business alone. Being close to her mother was a bonus, much like getting a _slight _fresh start all over again.

Luckily Kendra had swooped in before anything regrettable could be said—or made—on Massie's end. Her mother whisked her away into the backyard, insisting that the DJ was humbling and the music was getting stale. She knew it was her mother's way of micromanaging and avoiding a scene, and Massie appreciated it greatly. She had managed to catch Claire's eye as she was on her way out, and Massie's eyebrow quirked, the hint of a smirk on her face, watching her leave with Cam. For the remainder of the party Massie had steered clear of the remaining Pretty Committeee members, thankfully, and there were plenty of faces that were _happy _to see that she was finally back, the other girls she'd gone to school with that secretly wanted to be apart of her elite clique back in middle school. But much to her surprise, she ended up bumping into Layne Abeley, who Massie would admit looked stunning in a slinky, sultry merlot colored Morgan Co. lace and jersey gown with cutaway shoulders, a slit going up her thigh and a sheer view of her back. Her hair was dyed jet black and cut to the middle of her neck in a choppy layered bob that suited her well. At her side was her older brother, Chris, who'd been the object of Massie's affection back in seventh grade and was _also_ the reason she'd experienced her first real heartbreak. He looked handsome as ever in a charcoal Armani suit, his chestnut hair winged out stylishly.

"Hey guys," she said with a warm smile, extending her hand out because it seemed like the proper thing to do.

"Welcome back," Chris said with an eye-tooth baring grin, shaking her hand firmly.

"Yeah, it's good to see you," Layne agreed; Massie believed her. But that was the end of the conversation as Massie got swept up by a flock of other former classmates, including Olivia Ryan, Coral McAdams, and Allie-Rose Singer. She bid a quick goodbye to Layne and Chris Abeley, smiling apologetically in her wake. Just beyond their heads, she was able to make out one other person, who sort of just lingered in the back, gulping down one glass of amber colored liquid after the next. She'd bet anything that it was bourbon, and there was this niggling in her chest that made her want to go over to him. Just to say hi.

And she followed it, excusing herself from the trio of girls that started asking questions about her life in London and what it was like to live in California. She didn't realize her hands were trembling until she reached out to tap him on the shoulder, only then did she hide them behind her back and clear her throat to get his attention. She couldn't believe how nervous she was, still in his presence after all these years. How did he always manage to make her brain shut off, and he didn't even have to _look_ at her?

"Hey," she tried when he didn't acknowledge her apparent gesture, plastering a composed, relaxed smile on her face in hopes of hiding the fact that every nerve ending was a live wire.

"Block," he assessed Massie, chocolate brown eyes sweeping up and down, from the moment his attention was on her. She could tell that he liked what he saw, gaze lingering much too long for it to be friendly. "What brings you back to the WC?"

"Business," she replied simply, "I've got an apartment on hold in Manhattan, I sign the paperwork tomorrow and my move-in date is the end of next week."

"Congrats," he nodded with a smile, "I always knew you'd do good."

"_Better _than good," she giggled softly, "and what about you? I always thought you'd be off playing soccer around the world with the champs."

"Yeah, about that," he half-laughed, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand that didn't hold his glass. "I pretty much gave up soccer in high school, tried doing football for a little bit, but sports just... wasn't my thing anymore."

"So what do you do _now_?" She inquired, genuinely curious to see where life had taken Derrick Harrington since they last saw each other.

And somehow, they ended up walking together through the thick crowd, never straying too far even as they refilled their drinks. Derrick was definitely several glasses deep already, and she would need another glass of wine to calm her nerves. Talking among themselves as if they'd carved out their own portion of the world, ignoring everyone else in their path, but mindful enough to knock into them. Everything melted away, including the ferocious glare Alicia was sending in her direction—that seemed _universes_ away. She was more interested in getting to know this new Derrick, the one who admitted to wearing shorts for a year because he lost a bet, the one who enjoyed cooking and one day planned to open a chain of restaurants with Cam as his partner, and the one who was kind enough to ask Massie if he could kiss her goodbye at the very end of the night—which prompted her to boldly ask him if he'd like to get coffee sometime during the week so they could finish catching up. It seemed as if they still had so many things to uncover in each other's lives and she was dying to know every last detail.

.

The morning after the Block's party, Dylan found herself waking up with a massive migraine—she didn't remember much of the actual evening, just up to the part where she started chugging glasses of mixed drinks and downing shots in a contest to see who could stomach more, she volunteered herself to go up against Kemp—which had been a mistake in itself but trying to change a drunk Dylan's mind was an even bigger mistake once she was set on something. She knew her excessive drinking started with spotting Massie and Derrick together, walking close enough their arms touched, and talking intimately—she didn't think it would bother her, but she couldn't help the initial reaction. And that's how she ended up lying on the floor of her bedroom, tangled in her silk sheets, her throbbing forehead damp with sweat and her mouth full of cotton.

"Good morning, sunshine," a groggy voice called from the other side of the room. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she adjusted to the light filling her bedroom, and rolled over to see Alicia was sprawled across the chaise by the window overlooking the city. Somehow they'd made it back to Manhattan in one piece, and without any boys accompanying, which was good because they hadn't had a sleepover in a long time.

"Helloooo," She crooned sleepily, swiftly searching for any other signs of life. The coast was clear.

Dylan pushed herself off the floor, kicking her legs free from the sheets, and gathered her thick red curls to pile her hair into a bun on top of her head. "Let's go out for breakfast," she insisted with a small yawn.

"I'm in!" Alicia chirped, leaping up from the chaise and helping herself to rummaging through Dylan's closet, plucking out a white fluffy robe "I'm in the mood for pancakes, but first I wanna shower. I smell like vodka and you smell like tequila," she playfully waved her hand around by her nose and giggled.

.

When Claire woke up the next morning, she'd almost forgotten where she was—her cornflower blue eyes taking in the thousand-thread satin silk sheets stretched over the king size mattress, the Dupioni curtains drawn in front of the large windows, the silver cart catered to their whim from the previous night. There was elaborate oil paintings hung on the wall, a gilt mirror over the marble dresser, and a sheepskin rug covering 90% of the floor. A far stretch from the Fisher's bedroom back home, and it took a minute to remember that Claire had surprised Cam with their reservations at the hotel after ditching Massie's party. The blonde rolled over, her arms draping across her husband's broad naked chest, and pressing a kiss to just below his left nipple. A sensitive spot for him, causing him to squirm under her touch and grin in his sleep. Smiling to herself, Claire leaned and kissed below the other one, before playfully flicking her tongue out—holding back her laughter until Cam's arms suddenly squeezed around her tightly, and she had no choice but to yelp out her delightful squeals.

"I know what you're trying to do," he chuckled, peaking one eye open to look at his wife. "And it's working."

Claire lifted herself up onto her arms, throwing her leg over Cam's lap and lowering her naked body until it was flush against his, letting out a soft moan and biting at her lower lip. Cam's hands grabbed at her waist, thrusting up into Claire—her mind immediately drifted back to the night before and flooding with the memories of ordering lots of champagne, fresh oysters, and strawberries dipped in chocolate. Cam's hot kisses pressed to every inch of her body, his hands caressing and touching her in all the right places. It started out gentle, passionate, but quickly spun into a battle for control, hard and longing, needy and desperate. She couldn't remember the last time they'd been with each other like that, and it left her breathless. Aching for more once they were finished—they'd gone at least two more rounds before falling asleep in each other's arms.

_Ping. Ping._

Claire groaned loudly, more for the pleasure than the annoyance of her phone indicating a new text message. When she was pulled back to the present, Cam was on top now, and her legs were bunched back to having her knees to her chest, with him holding her by the ankles to keep her from moving. She also didn't realize that Cam was minutes away from coming to his peak, and she wanted to ride out that wave of euphoria with him. By the time they were done, Claire's phone had gone off six more times, and she waited until Cam disappeared into the bathroom to wrap herself up in the sheets to pad across the room and check her phone.

**Alicia Rivera: **_meet us at Big Daddy's in 20?  
_**Alicia Rivera: **_hello?  
_**Dylan Marvil: **_you better not be fucking Cam when there's PANCAKES  
_**Dylan Marvil: **_jk  
_**Dylan Marvil: **_pancakes are deff more important tho  
_**Gracelyn Fisher: **_just checking in, Shay had breakfast and is playing out in the yard with Harris. _

Claire sighed heavily—the texts from Alicia and Dylan were close to fifteen minutes ago, and she was a good thirty five minutes away from Big Daddy's, depending on the traffic from their hotel room. She still had to shower and get dressed, obviously she'd either have to drive all the way to her in-laws to drop off Cam or he was coming for pancakes with her. But when her husband stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered and the towel hanging low on his hips, she ultimately decided against showering and speedily got clothes on, coaxing her flaxen hair into a ponytail, because thinking about Cam would lead to them having sex all over again, and they'd never leave the hotel room.

"What's the plan?" Cam asked while she tugged her shirt on over her head.

"Alicia invited us for pancakes at Big Daddy's," she said.

"Sounds good to me," he ran his fingers through his wet hair then wrapped an arm around Claire's shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I had a great time last night, Claire. You're amazing in every way."

.

Alicia was in the middle of listening to Dylan rave about ... _something_ ... honestly had lost interest in the story four minutes in, but she didn't have the heart to tell her friend that. Instead she nodded when appropriate, "mmm" at any glance Dylan gave her, and tried not to shout _hallelujah _when Claire's head dipped into view of Big Daddy's—with Cam following behind her. She'd almost forgotten that Claire and Cam spent the night away from home, and would've been mad that he would be the only boy there, but she was happy for Claire, and surprisingly didn't mind seeing them together for once.

"Hey!" Interrupting Dylan, Alicia practically shot out of her seat, raising her hand up so they could see her, "come sit," she instantly lowered back down and offered a big smile.

Cam and Claire wound their way over to the table and took a seat, both of their hands disappearing under the tabletop but she knew they were still intertwined.

"How were things after I left?" Claire immediately asked.

"Intense," Dylan blurted. "I got super drunk and don't remember anything after going shot for shot with Kemp."

Claire's eyes narrowed, wondering what made Dylan do something like that—nobody ever challenged Kemp, he could practically unhinge his jaw like a snake and hold his liquor better than anyone in their group of friends. Cam cleared his throat, excusing himself to the bathroom—this sounded like something he didn't need to be apart of.

"Massie and Derrick were getting pretty acquainted last night," Alicia said as soon as Cam left the table, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear.

"Okay?" Claire still wasn't following—why was that any of their business?

"I didn't think it'd bother me, we've both been single for a long ass time and we only had sex on a couple of occasions after the break up, but..." Dylan let out a long, weighted sigh and she cupped her chin in her hand. "I dunno, it's stupid."

Claire stayed silent. She didn't think it was stupid, Alicia could see it on her face—they'd all had their fair shares of being jealous for reasons beyond their control. Claire with Cam when they broke up back in eighth grade, Alicia with Josh before they ever actually started dating and he chose to like Claire—a small blip. Even Massie, when Dylan started liking Derrick in eighth grade, even though she never wanted to admit it because she was "crushing" on Dempsey Solomon for like two weeks. But at the same time, it was news to both Alicia and Claire that Dylan continued hooking up with Derrick over the years, in secret.

The conversation ended as quickly as it started with Cam's return to the table—but much to Claire's surprise, he excused himself by saying that _Derrick _was coming to pick him up because he was in the area, and they had some things to discuss—business matters. He gave Claire a quick kiss goodbye and ducked out of Big Daddy's at the sight of Derrick's car pulling up not even three minutes later. _Wow he wasn't kidding when he said he was in the area_, Alicia thought to herself, and snuck a peak at Dylan to see if she could get any idea what was on the redhead's mind. But her expression gave away nothing, didn't even look towards the window where they could plainly see Cam getting into Derrick's Jeep.

"I don't have _those _feelings for him," Dylan clarified when she noticed that Alicia was looking at her, _studying _her.

"Okay, Dylan." Alicia murmured, disbelieving.

.

Kristen sat at her desk, silently stewing over the previous night's events while her students worked on their exams—there were two more weeks of class before school let out for summer break, and as much as Kristen loved her job, she honestly couldn't wait to be free for the next three months. It meant making up for lost time with her three best friends, and hopefully finding a romance for the season. She didn't believe in long term, not after her fall out with Dempsey Solomon a few years ago—her _forever_, which turned out to just be a huge waste of time. There were twenty minutes left in the period for her history class, and while only a handful—four—of them had handed in their final tests of the year, she could sip at her water down iced latte from Starbucks, mark off the wrong answers, and reflect on Massie Block's sudden return to New York. It wasn't like she'd had a bad falling out like the other girls, and she longed to have a conversation with the brunette, but everyone kept getting in her way and by the time things started winding down she saw Massie was enraptured with Derrick Harrington. She felt a pang for Kristen, knowing the two had only been together recently—no more than a month ago, actually. But Dylan didn't have a claim over Derrick any more than eighth grade Massie did with that stupid Chanel hold. In truth, she missed her old friend, and knew it was stupid to let Alicia drive a wedge between them because she was insecure. Granted, after Massie's move to London their connection wasn't as strong as it used to be after a couple years, but that didn't things had to end the way that they did. She also thought back to what Massie said, how they'd treated her towards the end of their friendship, and a sour taste filled Kristen's mouth. She was ashamed of the way they—she—handled things, constantly dodging her calls or texts, purposely leaving her out of group chats, pressing 'decline' on any incoming FaceTime or Skype chats. But to add salt to wound, they opened her Snapchats and never replied, but had no problem posting all the fun they were having to their stories. Alicia would tag Claire, Dylan and Kristen in photos on Facebook and Instagram, knowing that Massie could see them, and made it seem like they were _too busy _as time went on, and never bothering to visit Massie during the vacations after ninth grade once they hit high school—it wasn't until senior year that things really hit, and the Pretty Committee—save for Claire, until two and a half years ago—had cut all ties with Massie. Kristen knew it was wrong, but she'd been under Alicia's influence and felt things were different back then. And now that she was back, Kristen almost had the hope things _could _go back to the way things were—they were all adults now, and a lot more mature than they had been when everything fell apart.

Stealing a quick glance at her students, and then at the clock, she announced a ten minute warning, then snuck her phone out under her desk as if she were thirteen years old again—firing off a quick and nervous text.

**Kristen Gregory: **_hey, u busy?  
_**Kristen Gregory: **_wanna meet up for lunch? My last class ends in 10. _

Her phone softly pinged with a new text just as she went to tuck it back in her desk drawer, and it lit up with a new text. She let out a breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding in

**Massie Block: **_sure, where? _

It wasn't very enthusiastic, but Kristen took this as a win. She wasn't freezing her out after Alicia's comment last night, a good sign, and without any thought she asked Massie to meet her at Fuji Hibachi, a Japanese steak house and sushi bar. It was one of her favorite places to go; she also hoped that sushi was still one of Massie's favorite lunch time favorites.

* * *

author's note: I'm going to do the best that I can to explain why the girls fell apart as the story goes on, but I also would like to point out that Massie _did _leave for London in eighth grade with her parents, and she went to California for college. This all takes place when the PC is in their early twenties, nine or ten years after the end of _Tale of Two Pretties_. James is a supporting character, but he is definitely not a good guy and will be mentioned, but not shown, at least not right now or any time soon. I will also do my best to incorporate each of the girls careers—so far it has been known that Kristen has completed her first year as a history teacher and Dylan is getting involved with the fashion industry. PS, Claire is a stay at home mom while Derrick and Cam are getting started with their business, and Massie will also be working in the fashion industry which means she will be crossing paths with Dylan soon.


	3. Got A Secret, Can You Keep It?

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫

_Alicia Rivera paced back and forth backstage, the clicking of her shoes against the polished wood floor settling into a smooth staccato rhythm that helped her focus. She was due to perform on stage in front of a live audience in a matter of minutes—and every time she peaked out from behind the curtains she continued to see the reserved seat empty. It twisted up at her heart with every unanswered text message to her boyfriend, but she rationalized that he was running late. Stuck in traffic. Lost track of time. Had a hard time getting into the performing arts center. Lost his ticket. Would she need to come rescue him? If only he would text her back! It'd help ease her nerves, the very least. She didn't want him to miss her first solo dance routine, but it helped to see that both her parents, Len and Nadia, were in their seats to cheer her on for her big day. _

_"Three minutes to curtain," a faintly British voice announced over the intercom. Alicia swallowed hard, scurrying over to the alcove where she'd stashed her purse and tossed her phone into the pocket, zippering it closed. She had to get a quick run through in before she went on, if she didn't she knew she'd regret it for the rest of the night. _

_Five, six, seven, eight. _

_She cued the imaginary music in her head to the beat of Elastic Heart by Sia—it wasn't exactly her first choice for the dance but she needed to keep it PG. Her original had been a mashup of Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande and Hands To Myself by Selena Gomez, but she'd been talked out of it for the sake of her audience. The dance steps were memorized to the core, she could follow it flawlessly and do the routine in her sleep if she really wanted to. Everything she'd ever done had led her up to this moment, she deserved it. All her hard work at Body Alive Dance Studio prepped Alicia to finally have the spotlight to herself. _

_"Leesh?" a small voice beckoned, just as there was an announcement for one minute to curtain over the intercom._

_Alicia pauses, wiping the back of her hand across her forehead to check for any signs of sweat, and turned to face her interruption. Her eyes narrowed and her mouth turned down at the corners, "what are you doing here?"_

_"You didn't think I'd miss this, did you?" Massie Block raised an eyebrow, both hands planting on her hips. _

_"Well, all things considered." Alicia gave a half-shrug, her nose twitching slightly at the familiarity of Massie's perfume. It had been a long time since they'd been face to face, since they'd last spoken, and it truly took Alicia by surprise that Massie had come all this way to see her perform. _

_"I can't stay long, but... I just wanted to wish you luck." Massie attempted to smile but Alicia could tell that something was bothering her. If only she cared enough to ask. _

_"Thanks," she answered in a clipped tone, twisting on her heel to turn away from Massie, but the other girl caught her arm in a flash. "Uh, hello? Personal space invasion."_

_"Sorry, I just needed to—"_

_"Look, whatever apology or fake shit you have to say, I really don't wanna hear it right now, Massie." Alicia all but growled, ripping her arm out of the brunette's grasp. "I'm on in thirty seconds, find me after," she said in a quick attempt to cover her ass, suddenly feeling bad—how could she not? Massie went out of her way to make sure she'd be there to see Alicia tonight for her first real debut as a solo dancer. _

_"Sure," she said, her tone just on the sharp side, and walked away from Alicia before anything else could be said. The Latina watched her for a few seconds longer before rolling her shoulders back, letting out two deep breaths, and channeling her inner diva as she sauntered out onto the stage once they called her name._

* * *

𝔫𝔬𝔴

Claire had disbanded from the girls as soon as they were finished with breakfast at Big Daddy's, driving back to Westchester to pick up her daughter from the in-law's. It was Tuesday afternoon, which meant she had several clients to meet with for a photography session, a mommy-and-me yoga class, and grocery shopping—somewhere in between she wanted to devise a plan on how to get Massie back into her life, thanks to a little tip from Kristen that they would be grabbing lunch together, in hopes of salvaging things.

Now, Claire sat at the breakfast nook in her quaint little home with her Nikon on the tabletop in front of her, while Shay was gated in in the living room playing with her toys and watching Blues Clues. She was fiddling with the cap on her camera, occasionally picking at the bowl of cubed fruit she'd plucked out of the fridge and dipping them in a small dish of chocolate. Her phone was on the charger, but that was just an excuse as to why she hadn't mustered up the courage to text Massie as Kristen had done. She'd succeeded in getting a few test shots done for an engagement photo shoot, a maternity, and a spontaneous graduation announcement for a girl at Columbia University. The yoga class had gotten cancelled, she wasn't complaining that's for sure, and grocery shopping could wait until later.

"Hey baby girl," Claire called to her daughter, who immediately dropped one of her mechanical toys and looked over at her mom as if she'd been caught doing something bad. The toy landed on the floor with a loud thud and Claire giggle-winced. Claire rose from the breakfast nook, with Shay meeting her at the gate that separated the kitchen from the living room, and scooped her up off the floor. "Want some nummies?"

Even though Shay was a little delayed when it came to speaking, or walking, she still had her own way of communicating. To answer Claire's question, the toddler clapped her hands three times then threw her arms up in the air, her own form of speaking—babbling—going a mile a minute. Claire strapped Shay into her high chair and handed her a sippy cup filled with watered down apple juice to occupy her until she got lunch out. Shay pat her hands happily against the highchair's tray, before getting a burst of energy and sweeping her arm out to knocking the sippy cup away. Claire heard it ricochet across the kitchen and sighed as it clanged into the fridge. She was in the middle of pulling out the container of cheese cubes and leftover macaroni from Gracelyn's house when her phone pinged with a new text message—then tripled. She quickly cut up the food for Shay, handing her one of the plastic baby forks, and giving her the apple juice back, before crossing the kitchen to check her phone.

**Kristen Gregory: **_don't ask questions, just roll with it  
_**Kristen Gregory: **_what do you have to drink  
_**Kristen Gregory: **_I'm gonna be outside in 2 _

Claire narrowed her eyes, but just as she'd tapped to reply, her doorbell rang—she spared a glance at Shay before going to open the front door. Even before she wrenched it open, she already knew what—_who—_was standing on the other side, and was not mentally prepared to come face-to-face with the infamous Massie Block.

Kristen was shaking around the ice in her Starbucks cup impatiently, the dazzling smile matching the light in her blue eyes. She had succeeded getting in Massie's good graces, of course she did—if she didn't, Massie wouldn't be standing here with Kristen on the Fisher's front steps. Massie looked exceptional, _professional_, in a eggplant-colored Karen Kane embroidered tank top that skimmed the top of her black Hudson Barbara high rise skinny jeans, and **COACH **Waverly beadchain pointed-toe pumps that complimented her black-and-gold _The Kooples_ metallic trimmed blazer perfectly.

"Uh, come on in," Claire immediately stepped aside to let the two women inside her home. "Can I get you anything?"

"Water," Massie immediately responded, waltzing into the Fisher house with her amber eyes flickering curiously. "Nice place, Kuh-laire. Really suits you."

Claire, unsure of whether or not that was some kind of insult, smiled her thanks and went into the kitchen; a couple minutes later she returned with Massie's glass of water and Shay in tow. She handed the beverage to Massie, who took it graciously and slowly sipped it. Shay's eyes widened at the new female sitting in the living room, and crawled around and gathered as many toys as she possibly could to give to Massie to welcome her into her home.

Kristen and Claire chatted with ease, occasionally attempting to include Massie in their conversation but she politely excused herself to answer a phone call each time they tried—they knew it was a tactic to avoid participating, she must've felt awkward or unsure, because she'd done it enough times in middle school. Kristen was getting a little annoyed, she brought Massie there because she said she'd talk things over with Claire, and this was not how it was supposed to go. The next time Massie came back, Kristen forced herself to leave the room, eyeing Massie distinctly that this can't be something she ignores forever, and stepped out onto the front porch.

"So, Claire," Massie began—taking initiative to break the ice right away as soon as they were alone. "How have things been for you?"

"Pretty good..." she mumbled, "Cam and Derrick are planning to open a restaurant, but for now he's doing some cameraman work for Dylan to help pay the bills until things take off—I'm a stay at home mom, but I do some photography here and there for my own contribution towards things."

"Oh, speaking of Cam..." Massie didn't hesitate diving right into the real reason she wanted to speak with Claire. She had to know the truth. "Does he—"

"Massie Block stop right there," the blonde interrupted, but her voice was shaking. She knew what Massie was going to say and it had her insides twisting up like a pretzel. "Please don't do this."

"You should've thought twice," Massie said simply.

"I thought you were my friend, Massie.." Claire swallowed, trying her hardest to hold back the tears threatening to spill—years worth of pent up emotions were bubbling to the surface.

"I was, and I just wanted what's best for you." Massie claimed, her tone earnest. "But you didn't seem to think so—you thought I was out to hurt you, because _Alicia _put that thought in your head."

"I didn't—I wasn't—please Massie, it's not like—"

"Save it, Claire." the brunette cut in sharply, "I know you well enough to know for a fact that nobody else knows what you did, and that there is not a single part of you that regrets anything. I've seen you in action over the years, you're not as innocent as you think, and you're definitely not the victim." Massie's voice has softened, so soothing and calm, but the lines of her face had hardened coldly. It scared Claire. "I'm not gonna keep your secret forever, I hope you know that," she added as she rose from the couch, gently placing Shay's toys on the cushions where she once sat.

Claire didn't need Massie to finish talking to know that there was, indeed, an underlying threat in her words: if Claire didn't come clean on her own accord, she was going to expose Claire for the type of person she really is. And it would sound a lot worse coming from Massie. The blonde nodded with understanding, and fidgeted with the hem of her top, trying to think of something else to say but she was at a loss for words. Luckily, Kristen had finally come back inside, and from her silence, the giddy smile on her face, she hadn't heard a thing that Massie had said, no matter how vague it'd been.

Claire had to prolong this, she didn't know how but she did—she needed to buy as much time as she could to find the right way, the right words, to explain her side of the story. Nobody would forgive her if Massie came out with it, she'd at least have a fighting chance if _she _was the one to clear the air. And the only way Claire saw fit was to pretty much kiss Massie's ass until she came up with a real plan.

.

"Why are you talking to Massie Block again?" Dylan asked, her voice hitched somewhere between a guttural moan and a whisper. It was probably the _worst_ thing to be talking about when she was about to bask in thirty minutes of sexual glory—normally it would have gone on for longer, but she was running short on time this afternoon—but it hadn't left her thoughts since seeing them together the night before at the Block's party. She didn't know why it bothered her so much, maybe because it brought up memories of when they were in middle school, how Derrick had chosen Massie at first back in seventh grade, only to show an interest in Dylan during eighth. They'd gotten pretty hot and heavy throughout high school, never daring to share that dreaded eight letter word because it would ruin what they had, especially after their _public_ relationship ended. Derrick had taken Dylan's virginity but she knew that she wasn't his first—that title went to either Olivia Ryan or Skye Hamilton; nobody could be exactly sure.

Derrick, in the midst of sucking on her left nipple and edging her underwear out of the way so he could do a quick finger-bang before she had to leave him with blue balls _again_, lifted his head to stare straight in her leafy green eyes. "Do you seriously want to be talking about Massie right now?"

"I mean, no, but..."

"Then let's not," Derrick captured her breast back into his mouth, teeth grazing over her sensitive nipple. Dylan let out a small gasp, her fingers combing over his dirty blonde hair, though silently cursing it hadn't been cut so short. She missed running her hand through those shaggy strands, the way she could tug them hard enough to make him hard without even a kiss or glimpse of her half-naked body while sneaking in a quick fuck between whatever they were doing previously. Nobody knew how often Derrick had her backed up into a corner, not even the Pretty Committee—when they briefly talked about it at breakfast, she made things seem like they were a fluke. She had said it was an occasional thing after they broke up in high school, because she knew they would be judging her for hooking up with an ex rather than just getting back together.

Dylan hated herself for thinking about Derrick's relationship with Massie while he was pleasuring her, her entire body flooding with warmth and tightening with the familiar tingling sensations. She couldn't stop wondering if Derrick was going to "dump" her for Massie now that she was back in town, could it be possible that Derrick was already bouncing between girls to have the best of both worlds? They looked pretty cozy at the party, but as far as she knew, Derrick hadn't woken up in the brunette's bed or vice versa. He had been alone when he picked up Cam from Big Daddy's, she could see that through the windows, but that didn't exactly mean anything.

"Fuck," Dylan whispered, inwardly cursing at her own thoughts and her body's natural release. Derrick smirked against her throat, which he'd started kissing and nipping at, and removed his fingers tantalizingly slow.

"Have fun at work," Derrick tapped her bottom lip with his glistening pointer finger, and laughed softly as he wiped his hand clean with a bunch of napkins he'd kept in his back pocket.

"You're so gross," Dylan whined playfully, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand then sliding it casually on the wall behind her. Derrick pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and exited Dylan's room after making sure the coast was clear—they'd gone back to Merri-Lee's estate for some alone time, it was only ten minutes or so away from where Dylan was expected to be and very much empty thanks to Merri-Lee being at the studio and her sisters were off on a shopping spree, which made it extremely convenient.

She took a ten minute shower, scrubbing off any sign of Derrick and removing the stench of arousal with grapefruit scented body wash. After she was done, she blow dried her hair and styled it to have little flips at the bottom of her loose ringlets, changed into a jaw-dropping outfit that was sure to impress everyone in the room, and perfected her smoky eye makeup. Dylan was due to meet with some personnel for dinner at some restaurant in the city, people that would be closely working with her that she needed to get acquainted with, now that she was on the path to making a name for herself that _didn't_ associate with The Daily Grind or Merri-Lee Marvil.

* * *

**author's note: **sorry it took so long to update and i'm sorry that this chapter isn't as great as the others, this was pretty much just dedicated to Claire and Dylan. For the next update you can look forward to:

\- learning more about Claire's secret  
\- Josh and Alicia having a night together  
\- discussion on Massie, Derrick, and Dylan  
\- A heart-to-heart between two beloved characters


	4. You're My Favorite Kind of Night

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫

**_CLAIRE BEAR _**_flashed across the screen of Massie Block's iPhone, and her thumb immediately stabbed at the green button to accept the call before it could start blaring the Taylor Swift ringtone specifically chosen for her blonde friend. She was perched on the mint-green ottoman in her hotel room, scantily clad in a complimentary robe swiped from the bathroom, and a pair of lace underwear. Her breast was threatening to fall free from the confines of the soft fabric, and she quickly adjusted to tightening it around her body as she pressed the phone to her ear. _

_"Hello?" Massie whispered into the receiver, side-eyeing the lump buried under the satin on the bed behind her._

_"Did I wake you?" Claire mumbled, the soft tone wound with emotion. _

_"No," she said, "Are you okay? What's wrong?"_

_It wasn't like Claire to call her so early in the morning, especially not after a wild night_—_it was the morning after Skye Hamilton's engagement party. Everyone had retired to a hotel room at some point or another, not wanting to pose a risk in getting a DUI or accidentally killing somebody while on the road. As far as Massie was concerned, Claire had stayed down longer than she had, and it was a surprise that Claire could even function properly, let alone know what daylight looks like without screaming from the sun. _

_"I... uh... Mass... Can_—_can we go look for the complimentary breakfast?" Claire's voice was shaking now, and Massie's chest immediately tightened. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Her mind flickered to this movie they'd watched years ago, about a bachelor party gone awry; not The Hangover, the title of the movie completely skipped out on her thoughts, but Massie remembered distinctly that somebody ended up dead. And she prayed it wasn't this kind of scenario about to play out. _

_"Sure, give me a few."_

_Not even ten minutes later Massie was dressed in black leggings and an off-the-shoulder sweater from TopShop, a pair of gray boots laced up her to her knees. Her unruly chestnut hair had been tamed into a sexy bun on top of her head with a few strands framing her heart-shaped face; thanks to the rosewater soap in the bathroom she'd been able to clean her face free of crusty makeup leftover from the party. Claire showed up not too long after she did, similarly dressed but she had on Keds rather than boots; Massie had honestly thought she'd seen the last of those damn sneakers back in eighth grade but decided not to comment. Her blonde hair hung limp and tangled around her face; she seemed to have definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed._

_"Hey," Massie said, but Claire didn't respond_—_they stepped inside the elevator in silence; Massie pressed the lobby button and the elevator jerked into motion, bringing them down the shaft. Claire stared straight ahead at her reflection in the polished silver doors, her normally bright blue eyes were rimmed red and her lips were chapped. Massie noted that she also looked a little pale but concluded that was because she'd been wearing foundation the night before. _

_It wasn't until they reached the lobby, veering left and weaving their way towards where the complimentary breakfast was set up for guests, that Massie broke the silence by asking if she was gonna be bringing a plate back up to Cam, or if he was going to have to fend for himself. Claire made a __disgruntled noise at the back of her throat, but didn't vocalize her answer. Rather, h__er hand found Massie's wrist, squeezing three times. "Massie, promise me this stays between us..."_

_Massie didn't even realize she'd been holding her breath she let out a sharp exhale, filled with the sudden awareness of exactly what was going to be coming out of her friend's mouth_—_that Cam was either not the person asleep in her hotel room, or she'd woken up in somebody else's, because there was no other possible explanation as to why Claire would look so disheveled and be so quiet, why she was afraid to talk over the phone, why she needed to isolate Massie in order to talk to her. _

_ For all that is mighty and powerful, Massie prayed that she was wrong. _

_"Pinky swear." _

* * *

𝔫𝔬𝔴

"Good morning, beautiful." Josh Hotz chimed huskily in the ear of his girlfriend from behind, one arm wrapped around her lithe waist while his opposite hand extended forward to show her the bouquet of red roses he'd bought that morning while picking up dinner for the evening. Alicia blushed furiously, turning her head to plant a kiss on his cheek, and accepted the flowers to graciously bring them up to her pert nose, inhaling not just the floral aroma but a surprising concoction that involved the spicy chocolate scent of her perfume. "I also may have bought you more Angel, I wasn't sure if you were running low. It's in the cabinet upstairs, but I wanted to spritz these for you, because I know that sometimes you get headaches from the smell of flowers after a while."

"Josh, you're so sweet, thank you."

It was date night for the lovely couple but neither of them wanted to go out, so they'd devised a plan to make everything just as special within the confines of Josh's loft. Josh was in charge of food, and Alicia decided to turn the spacious area into a romantic getaway as much as she possibly could—there wasn't a flat surface in the entire loft that wasn't holding a candle, she'd set the table in the living room with a white linen cloth and his finest china, strung up the Christmas lights Josh kept tucked in the back of his closet around the posts of his king size bed, and one of Alicia's playlists was softly crooning from his stereo system. The current song was_ Love Me Like You Do_ by Ellie Goulding from the Fifty Shades of Grey soundtrack.

"Hope you're hungry," Josh grinned, unloading the takeout bag in the kitchen to separate the orders. For him he'd gotten a medium-cooked filet mignon and Asian stir-fry vegetables, and for Alicia he'd picked up a plate of California rolls, a small garden salad with oil and vinegar, grilled chicken marinated with rosemary and garlic, and lemon-dipped asparagus sautéed with hollandaise. She grabbed two glasses from the cabinet above the sink as well as the Old Vine Zinfandel in the one next to it, and poured them a drink.

They sat across from each other, illuminated by the flickering candles and the warm orange glow crackling in the fireplace. Everything was absolutely perfect, Alicia thought as Josh placed the bouquet of roses in a crystal vase in the center of the table. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he smiled at her like he was the luckiest guy in the world to be spending such an evening with a girl as beautiful as Alicia Rivera. If she were honest, she always knew she'd be sitting right here, with Josh Hotz, from the day she met him at her cousin Nina's welcome party when they were twelve. He had captivated her the moment she laid eyes on him, and while it took some time for him to come around, they were a match made in heaven. Everyone could see it, even strangers that came up to them in the streets for autographs—more Josh than herself because he was the face of Ralph Lauren's newest campaign, but she didn't mind, she was still getting her feet wet in the dancing society after putting on the performance of a life time a couple years ago that launched her into stardom.

"I love you," Josh said around a mouthful of vegetables, but it came out sounding more like "I 'uff oo" until he swallowed what was in his mouth and tried again, grinning sheepishly at his girlfriend.

"I love you too," Alicia said before taking a few small sips of her wine.

"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He asked, and she couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. But Josh didn't elaborate after she nodded, instead he continued with, "I'm so lucky to call you mine, Leesh. I don't even know …. life without you, it would suck. I never want to be away from you. I never want to know what it's like to not be with you, you're such a huge part of my life. I'm sorry if it seems like I'm not around as much, or I get distant, but just know that I really love you."

Alicia's heart tripled in speed, and her palms were getting clammy. _Was it finally happening?_ She wondered. She watched as Josh shifted in his seat, and pull a hand out from his pocket, presenting a small Robin's egg-colored blue velvet box that fit perfectly in his palm. With his thumb he popped the lid, and smiled expectantly at his girlfriend, who peered over to look at the glamorous—_what the hell? _Unexpected disappointment flooded through Alicia; she gingerly took the box from Josh to get a closer look, and lifted out the diamond heart-shaped pendant in rose gold that Josh had bought from Tiffany & Co. She hated herself for feeling ungrateful, the necklace had probably cost more than a _thousand _dollars and _she_ was silently seething that it wasn't an engagement ring instead.

"It's beautiful," Alicia whispered softly, afraid that if she spoke any louder, he'd heard the disappointment in her voice. "I love it, thank you, Josh."

Her boyfriend beamed with pride, "I knew you would."

Alicia smiled genuinely as she brought the necklace to her throat and clasped it around her neck, allowing the heart to fall just above the valley of her breasts. She downed the rest of her wine and in a desperate attempt to keep things moving, not wanting to let _her_ put a damper on their evening, she casually leaned across the table so he could get a view down her shirt, and whispered, "Want to move this upstairs?"

In response, Josh grinned at her sheepishly, and both of them stood up. She grabbed her boyfriend's hand to lead him up to the bedroom, she thoughtfully had changed the boring white sheets to the crimson red silk ones he kept in the linen closet just so they could really have a special night together. The room was lit only by the lights tangled around the four posts of his bed and a single cinnamon-scented candle perched up on the TV stand; a silver dish of strawberries and an unopened bottle of pomegranate champagne was on the nightstand. Along with a bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream. Josh's brown eyes widened then darkened with a hunger Alicia recognized had nothing to do with food, and her breath hitched in her throat.

His hands were suddenly gripping behind her thighs and she was lifted off the ground; her legs locked around his waist. Josh laid her down on the bed, his hand now cupping at her breast, and his mouth ravaging her breasts and neck, while grinding his hips into hers. She let out a moan, throwing her head back against the mattress, and smiled to herself—she once again found herself unable to believe that this man belonged only to her, wanted to be with her forever, and then that little nagging voice popped into her head and she inwardly cursed as she found herself wondering, not for the first time,_ if__ he's so in love with you, why won't he ask you to marry him? _

.

It was one of the rare nights that Derrick chose to stay behind the bar rather than work in the kitchen, business was a somewhere in between for being both busy and slow for the restaurant. He was chatting with the usual customers that came in on a Friday night, pouring them drinks and catching up on the latest, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He gave a soft sorry to Allie-Rose Singer, one of his regulars, and excused himself to step out from behind the bar so he could answer the phone.

"Hello?" He asked as soon as the phone was at his ear.

"Are you closing tonight?" a voice whispered, sounding so familiar, so enchanting, and yet he couldn't place it right away. But Derrick wasn't about to admit that—instead he told the caller that he was closing up, and he'd be working the bar for the night. "Good, see you soon."

The call disconnected.

Derrick narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then shrugged. He returned the phone to his pocket and resumed his post behind the bar, conversing with Allie-Rose as if he'd never been interrupted. There was something about the girl that always had Derrick enjoying her company, he had never really paid attention or noticed her until they were in high school, when she fully grew into herself. Her eyes were bright green like a cat, her hair was shiny and dark, hanging straight down to the middle of her back. She dressed like she belonged in the Pretty Committee back in the day but according to Kristen, she was too tall and that deemed her fabulous wardrobe useless. It wasn't something he understood but never bothered to question because he started hanging out with her, got to know her, and she turned out to be really interesting. _Their loss_, he would think on occasion.

Every so often Derrick would break away from Allie-Rose to tend to the other customers but he would always make his way back to her in the spare moments. It was only a few years ago that Derrick had worked up the nerve to take things a step further with Allie-Rose, he took her out on a date to see if they could possibly be something more, and then they slept together—this was something that neither of them expected, because the date hadn't gone right at all, but somehow Allie-Rose still woke up next to a naked Derrick Harrington the following morning. They decided they were more physically compatible than emotionally, and stuck to being friends that had a lot of sex. Dylan didn't know about his tryst with Allie-Rose, not that it was any of her business anyway, but he had no intentions of telling her about it because after she tried prying about the fact that he talked to Massie one time at the party a few days ago, he had a feeling she wasn't gonna be too happy that he was dicking around with Allie-Rose. That was the one thing about Dylan, though. She acted as if she had a claim on him, that she could sleep with whoever she wants but Derrick had to stick to only her when convenient, and while she never said it aloud he knew that's what was probably going through her mind a majority of the time.

"Mind if I join you?" a velvety voice inquired from behind Allie-Rose, and Derrick nearly choked on his own saliva when his eyes flickered over to the newcomer. There she was. Looking so gorgeous but so simple in a white lace crop top, black high-waisted skinny jeans with rips in the knees, and suede gray boots that pulled over the knee. Her chestnut hair looked glossy under the dim lighting of the restaurant and from where he stood it didn't even look like she was wearing that much makeup, if any at all.

"OMG, hi! Come sit." Allie-Rose eagerly knocked her bag off the stool next to her, allowing Massie Block to take a seat. "I haven't seen you since your mom's party! You look so good, what brings you out this way?"

"I just got done interviewing," Massie replied, and then said to Derrick, "Cranberry vodka, please."

Derrick nodded as the two girls started talking; he had no idea they'd even had a conversation before since Massie left for London. From the sound of it, and the look in Massie's eyes, there was no real connection between the girls, it was just a filler because they were both there at the same time. He handed Massie her drink, then pretended to be interested in wiping down the counter while he eavesdropped on the meaningless chat between them until another customer grabbed his attention to have another drink. When he returned, he noticed that Massie was sitting alone, with no sign of Allie-Rose anywhere in sight.

"Where'd she go?" Derrick mumbled.

Massie shrugged. "I don't know, were you in the middle of something?"

"No," But it sounded more like a question. Derrick cleared his throat, "So, how did the interviewing go?"

"It went alright, I was just talking to some of the models, but I didn't want Allie-Rose to think I was doing something major or whatever." Massie said. It reminded Derrick of what she'd said the night of the party, her reason for being back in New York—she had finished an internship with some magazine back in California and landed a job working at VOGUE, he wasn't entirely clear on her status within the fine print or whatever, but he understood enough to know that Massie was really excited about this. He also remembered that she had double-majored and had two degrees under her belt, one for Journalism and the other was business, something he felt could've had to do with William Block, who happened to_ not_ be at the party. It surprised him that she didn't get involved directly with the whole fashion thing—the Massie he knew from middle school was obsessed with clothes, but he also didn't take her as the type to be sewing stuff together. Maybe this was more suitable for her, after all? But then again, what did he know about this stuff?

"Are they cute?" He grinned sheepishly.

"Go away," Massie playfully rolled her eyes at him and sipped at her cranberry vodka.

"Were you in the area, or did you just really want to see me?" Derrick couldn't help asking, it was something that had toyed in his mind as soon as he saw her standing behind Allie-Rose. He vaguely recalled telling her that he worked at Rousseau's on the weekends, varying between chef duty and playing bartender, and she seemed genuinely interested to hear more.

"A little bit of both," she admitted.

An awkward silence fell between them and Derrick took this time to check on his other customers, not wanting them to think he was letting all his attention be monopolized by the beautiful girl in front of him. He also took this time to think over what he wanted to say next—he was dying to know if she'd give him a chance, to see if they still had that chemistry between them from all those years ago. It was a curiosity of his, he still thought she was breathtakingly beautiful, liked the sound of her voice and could stare into her amber eyes all day. He'd been stupid back in seventh grade to let go of somebody like her, after he'd just started to really get to know Massie Block, but both of them were immature then. Something could definitely be salvaged out of this, now that they were adults, if she was willing to go out with him again. He flipped a coin over and over again in his mind, heavily debating if now was the right time, as he poured drinks for his eager regulars.

Luckily, Massie was exactly where he left her after he finished up. She perked up as soon as she saw him inch his way back over and smiled from behind her nearly empty glass—without asking Derrick took the glass, allowing his fingers to brush over hers, and gave her a refill.

"Hey, Massie?" he swallowed thickly, raising his hand to cup at the back of his neck and lightly scratch even though the spot wasn't itchy. She responded with a flicker of her eyes, those bright lion-colored orbs lined in black, and the small, sly curve of her lips encouraged him to continue, "If you're not doing anything tomorrow night, I was … well, I was hoping I could take you out to dinner."

"Really?" She didn't seem surprised, and he wasn't sure if the tone of her voice was flattering. His heart picked up a few beats nervously as he waited. "I was hoping you could make me something tonight, after everything's closed down..." She trailed off with a small, barely audible sigh that he swore sounded _hopeful_, like she really wanted that to happen. How could he deny?

"How about both?"

Closing seemed to be hours away from the moment they agreed to both days of having dinner together; Massie stayed in her seat at the bar and Derrick pushed through the drag by praying for more customers to show up, tending to the ones that were already there, and eventually deciding to close up a half hour early for "maintenance". Derrick locked up the front entrance, did a quick inventory check of what needed to be ordered or restocked for the following morning, and set up a table specially for his guest in the middle of the restaurant directly beneath the dimmed light fixtures. He poured her a glass of top-shelf wine before starting to head back towards the kitchen, when he suddenly felt Massie's presence hurrying behind him.

"I want to watch the master in action," she whispered, her lips as close to his ear as possible while they walked together.

"As you wish," Derrick murmured back.

He grabbed an apron off the hook in the back, tying it around his neck and waist, and washed his hands thoroughly. She twisted her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck, lingering at his side, as he started grabbing things vicariously throughout the kitchen to prepare her meal. The oven was set to 450. A slab of fresh salmon was pulled from the freezer, Derrick placed it on a metal defrosting tray and let the hot water run on it for a few seconds before letting it sit out on the counter to thaw. His next idea carried him over to the vegetable fridge, where he pulled out the broccoli, corn stalks, and potatoes. He seared the pan with butter and some flecks of cheddar cheese before setting it on the stove, cutting up the broccoli into smaller pieces before tossing it in. With the corn, he pealed away the greenery and started sawing at it with a sharp knife, collecting all the fallen pieces into a bowl of melted butter. Once he finished off two stalks of corn he placed the bowl and a small cup of butter inside the microwave, and moved on to the potatoes, skinning three of them and placing them in another bowl, beating them with a masher until they were soft and smooth. A few tabs of butter, some rosemary, and a few cloves of garlic were added to the potatoes before he popped them into the second microwave.

Derrick took the salmon off the counter, popping it into the oven once it dinged with preheat, and turning to face Massie, who looked absolutely awestruck from where she was now perched on one of the counters nearby. Her glass of wine was next to her, untouched from the time he first poured it. He closed the distance between them, until he stood directly between her legs, with both hands pressed firmly into the counter on either side of her—careful not to knock over her glass, of course.

"What do you think so far?" Derrick asked softly.

"You are incredible," she told him earnestly, tilting her head slightly to the left with a cocky half-smile. Both of their minds seemed to be in the same place. Derrick leaned in, breathing in the floral scent of her perfume, and pressed his lips to her neck. He peppered kisses along the soft skin, nipping and suckling where he saw fit. One hand moved to gripping at her thigh, his thumb dangerously close to being able to toy with the buttons on her jeans the further it moved along. With deft fingers he started doing exactly that, going down the line of four until he could slide his hand inside, and gingerly rub his thumb at her most sensitive area. He grinned against her neck when he felt her jump at his sudden touch, then immediately relax to melting against him, one of her hands digging into the fabric of his shirt to pull him against her—he took this as a sign to go further, moving her underwear aside.

This wasn't how he planned their evening to go, but he definitely wasn't complaining, and neither was Massie.

He had her pants completely off, her underwear coming a close second, and she'd rucked his shirt up off his torso, by the time the automatic timers had let Derrick know all of the food was done. Flushed, Massie crossed one leg over the other when Derrick pulled away to gather her plate. The salmon got drizzled in a special sauce recipe, parsley, and lemon juice, before being presented to the half-naked girl he had the gut feeling wasn't just in this for the sex like Dylan seemed to be. He couldn't even remember the last time she wanted him to cook for her.

"This looks_ so_ delicious," Massie said. He watched in awe of his own as she devoured the food on her plate, yet somehow savoring the zesty taste and promise of his carefully selected meal. He chuckled when he saw that she got a little bit of potato stuck to the corner of her lips, and crushed his mouth to hers, flicking his tongue to get the potato off and making an '_mmm_' sound. She laughed softly as she retuned his kiss, placing the plate down and wrapping her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss so they could pick up right where they left off.

.

Dylan Marvil laid diagonally across her mattress, staring up at the white tiled ceiling and listening to the sound of her TV playing an old episode of _Riverdale _via Netflix. Kristen was currently in the bathroom taking a shower and Claire was supposedly on her way over, claiming she'd be there as soon as she found somebody to watch Shay until Cam came home from work. It _could_ be considered Dylan's fault since she'd asked him to follow up with a few things back at the studio, but she wasn't in the mood to admit that, personally. Right now she was wallowing in the fact that she hadn't spoken to Derrick since their little rendezvous two days ago, which wasn't unusual, but she found herself wanting his company more than ever. He hadn't answered her texts all day, though she knew it was because he was closing down at one of the restaurants that night, so he was extra busy. This wasn't typical Dylan, she didn't know what it was about Derrick that made her crave his touch more than anything, want his attention solely on her. He was sweet, sure, but that didn't mean much these days. Neither of them wanted a real relationship, so they settled on sex at the beckoning.

"Hey, Dyl?" Kristen's voice floated from the en suite bathroom following the squeaking of her pipes as the water was shut off. "Alicia just texted me, she's on her way over. Picked up Claire along the way."

"Kay!" she hollered back to the closed door.

Kristen emerged a few seconds later, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and towel drying her hair. "What's on your mind?" she asked right away—one look at Dylan and she could just tell that something was bothering her, that's just how their friendship worked.

"Derrick," she mumbled, finding no point in lying because Kristen would just call her out on it anyway.

"I thought things were just casual between you?" Kristen raised an eyebrow, taking a seat on the edge of Dylan's bed.

"They are... but..."

"Dylan, is this about Massie? In all honesty?" the blonde blurted out, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Dylan was silent, she had to ponder over that, because really she wasn't sure if it was about _Derrick_, or Massie returning to New York. Was this really about her friendship with Derrick, or was she worried now that her former alpha was back, she was going to be tossed on the backburner? It was more than just sex for them, Derrick was her only other confidant. He knew an entirely different side of her than the Pretty Committee, a more vulnerable side than she allowed the girls to see. Her insecurities, her fears, her dreams of being a designer finally coming true now that she was getting a job with a magazine that exclusively wanted to feature her name and brand to get herself out there as more than just Merri-Lee Marvil's daughter.

"I don't know," she replied truthfully. "I like this thing I've got going on with Derrick, but... nobody can deny that he's really been in love with her all these years."

Kristen shrugged, she didn't know him well enough to come to that conclusion, though she did know that 'Massington' had been an epic seven months back when they were in middle school. She rooted for them, but of course switched to Dylan's side when the couple went public in eighth grade. Derrick claimed he didn't like Massie that way anymore, after they'd first broken up, but according to Cam that was just a bunch of bullshit. So Kristen didn't know what to think of it, even now.

"Have you tried talking to him about it?" She asked.

"Yeah, the other day, and he asked if I really wanted to talk about Massie." Dylan sighed—granted that had been horrible timing, but still. It kind of bothered her a little that they never actually got around to having that conversation.

Kristen frowned. "Oh."

It was silent in Dylan's room, save for Archie Andrews talking on the screen. Dylan wasn't sure what to say next, Kristen didn't know how to pry more information out of her friend—thankfully the sound of heels clicking against the high gloss finish wooden steps got them to shake out of that groove, acting as if nothing had ever happened when Alicia and Claire burst into the bedroom, lugging shopping bags and their overnights. Despite being adults, it was still tradition for them to have a sleepover every Friday, with or without Massie Block, and at least half of them wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

**author's note:** i'm a bit proud that this was longer than the last chapter, I hoped I shared a little bit of insight - but I do have a question for you: what do _you_ think is Claire's secret?


	5. Hatchet

𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫

_"I'm pregnant," the petite blonde blurted out with a fork poised at her lips._

_Her cornflower blue eyes were bright and her smile practically sparkled under the florescent lighting. Her pale skin had an ethereal glow to it, but Cam had easily chalked it up to the ton of makeup she normally caked onto her face whenever they went out somewhere. Her hair was bouncy and full, cascading over her shoulders in perfectly tousled waves. It completely went over his head that there was something different to Claire, but then again how could he know when he was the baby of the family, and they'd luckily hadn't become teen parents or had any kind of scares in all the years they've been dating. She did look more beautiful than ever, right now he couldn't believe he hadn't noticed_—_of course he blamed it on the fact that his boss had him working some crazy hours, causing him to barely be home anymore. It was a rarity Cam had managed to find some time to actually spend with his wife, let alone bring her out to lunch at an upscale restaurant. _

_"...did you hear me?" there was a wounded look in her eyes, and Cam realized he hadn't said anything back to her. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts, mesmerized by Claire in general, and he immediately frowned at his lack. _

_"Yeah," Cam breathed out with a half-smile, "I'm just... wow, you're pregnant... we're gonna be parents... that's crazy, I can't believe it." _

_"It's exciting," Claire said. But Cam thought he detected a little bit of sadness in her voice, and he couldn't help wondering if it was because she thought he was ignoring her. Cam agreed with her, though, it was something to be thrilled about_—_t__hey were seven months into their marriage, and now they were expecting their first child. _

_The couple ate in silence after that, Claire scraping her fork absently at the porcelain plate in front of her as she pushed the remainder of her food around. Cam decided it was best to look everywhere but at her, his mind racing, his thoughts pulling in every direction the more he pondered on Claire's_ _pregnancy_—_he didn't understand how the woman's body worked, how that whole baby thing worked, but he knew that it's been a while since him and Claire had last been intimate. She had to have known longer than she let on and was waiting for the perfect opportunity to tell him; he regretted not being around so much especially if that was the case. __He shoveled more food into his mouth, watching from beneath his long eyelashes as Claire slipped her phone out from her seashell purse wallet, and composed a text to somebody, her lips tugged down in a frown. He wondered who she could be reaching out to, Massie? The other girls in their so-called Pretty Committee? Her parents? Oh, god, did they know that she was pregnant already? _

_"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Claire announced softly, pushing her chair back and rising to her feet. She hurried off to the restroom at the back of the restaurant, and Cam let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in his own chair to stare up at the high peak ceiling._

* * *

𝔫𝔬𝔴

Dylan sat at her drafting desk, a customized circular table made out of white marble, and tapped her Tiffany Co. pen against the edge with an increasing frustration—she had sketched out the model's body, slit the cut offs for where the waist was marked and where the jeans would be tucked into a pair of knee-high boots. She stared at the vacant space for the torso and crinkled her nose. Did she want a plunging neckline? Sweetheart? Bell-sleeves? Tank top? Fitted bodice or flowing around the thighs like a ultra mini dress? Scraps of fabric were strewn around the makeshift office in her apartment, a wire mannequin stood proudly in the corner next to a table piled high with Manila folders, stacks of paper, dozens of pencils and markers, and more folded pieces of fabric she'd picked up on her way home. She didn't know what her problem was, Dylan had produced more outfits than she could count on her fingers without hesitation even before going to FIT. It was a hidden talent of hers she finally decided to embrace. Thinking of her closet, it saddened her to not be able to add to the collection as quickly as she would've liked—she was destined for this, she knew it from the bottom of her heart, but as usual (as of lately) there was something _blocking _her. A certain _Massie Block_, if you may. Dylan officially got "introduced" to Massie back at the office, where they were playing nice because they were in front of company, Dylan presumed. Massie was now working for Vogue, she was a columnist or stylist or something, and since Vogue wanted to sponsor Dylan exclusively, that meant she would probably have to see a lot more of her than she could ever want. It wasn't that Dylan didn't _want _to make things right with her former alpha, but something told her that if Massie ever find out about her tryst with Derrick, her entire career—and life—would be over before it even really started. She thought back to what Kristen had said at the sleepover, somewhere around the time Claire was making a third bowl of popcorn and Alicia had disappeared for a good ten minutes to decide on a movie. Kristen was on her side, she would always be there, but she also began rekindling her friendship with Massie: _Did you ever think to talk to Massie about this? You'll never know if you don't try, Dyl. She may be more understanding than you think. Besides, it's been years. She was cool with it back in eighth and I doubt things will be any different now. _While Dylan was more than agreeable to talk things out with Massie, she wasn't sure if she could feel as confident as Kristen wanted her to be about it.

Before she lost her nerve, and her fashion inspiration or possibly sanity, Dylan shoved away from her desk and swiped her phone off the chair where it had fallen out of her pocket. Massie's nUmBeR was pre-programmed onto her brain, but had she changed it after coming back to the United States for college? Rather than dwelling she pressed the call button and brought the phone to her ear—it was ringing, which was a good sign.

_Ring... ring... ring... ring... _

Just when Dylan was about to give up, there was a soft _click_. Followed by somebody's gentle breathing, she could practically hear the parting of glossy lips, and right away she knew that Massie was on the other end.

"Hello?" A familiar voice said—Dylan's heart nearly burst out of her chest.

"Massie?" The redhead asked softly, squeezing her eyes shut tightly and praying that nothing bad would come of this conversation.

"Yes... this is she..." Massie Block murmured with a trace of concern, "And may I ask who's calling?"

Dylan almost choked on her own saliva—she pulled her phone away to glare at the screen, momentarily appalled by the fact that Massie didn't have her number saved. . . until she remembered that her _own _number was different because of a scandal from a few years ago.

"I—uh, it's me, Dylan... Marvil..." she said tersely.

"Oh, hey," Massie sounded relatively pleased. "So funny that we're gonna both be working with Vogue, huh?"

Dylan couldn't believe it—she was already starting off the conversation acting like they _hadn't not _spoken in years. Ultimately she decided to roll with it.

"Yeah, totally, but I mean, you've always dreamt of working witth the bigtopss, though," Dylan agreed.

"I didn't know you were a designer, that's so cool." Massie said.

"I—uh, listen, I didn't call to talk about work, I was actually wondering if you wanted to get coffee and, you know, catch up or something." Dylan decided to cut through the bullshit, hating that the small talk sounded so normal, because that wasn't what she wanted.

Massie was silent for a moment, making Dylan so sure that she would deny the invitation, but then she exhaled, sounding as if she were smiling into the receiver. "If love to, Dyl. Want me to pick you up?"

"Sure!" She responded almost too eagerly but she didn't care.

.

A towncar pulled up in front of Dylan's building not even ten minutes later, she had changed into a bubblegum-pink slouchy tunic that skimmed the tops of her thighs, a pair of gray skinny jeans with rips in the knees, and studded black gladiator sandals. Her red curls had been tamed into a messy bun that somehow managed to still look elegant with a few strands framing her heart-shaped face, and her face was free of makeup except a few swipes of mascara and lip gloss. Her bowler bag swung happily from the crook of her elbow and she bounced as she walked through the frosted glass revolving doors and down the marble steps.

The tinted window rolled down to reveal a beaming Massie, who wore a pair of rose gold oversized sunglasses to shield her amber eyes even though the sun was due to set soon. It amazed her that Massie could look so free, so careless, so _happy_ and the twinge in her heart made her feel like they _were _best friends again.

Dylan opened the back door and slid into the seat beside Massie, who scooted down to make room. Dylan gave the address of her favorite coffee shop, and soon the two girls settled into a comfortable chatter for the fifteen minute drive. Dylan was careful to avoid anything that might lead to the topic of Derrick, which turned out to be surprisingly easy, as Massie was more intrigued to learn about her stardom, her budding career as a designer, the type of relationship she now has with her mom and sisters, and how things have been with the girls ever since the fall out. Dylan honestly wished she could remember _why _she had stopped talking to Massie, but nothing bubbled to the surface—but maybe nothing bad had happened between them, rather it was just Alicia being a dictator because she was threatened by Massie for whatever reason or another. It was seventh grade all over again, but this time it had lasted more than a few weeks, and Dylan was sure the Pretty Committee split was permanent. But Massie seemed open to the idea of mending things with the girls, she would have stated as such at Kendra's party, what with her now being on texting terms with Kristen and paying Claire a visit at her house.

When they arrived at the coffee shop, Dylan and Massie were still in deep conversation, planting both feet on the ground as they got out of the car to avoid tripping and falling flat on their faces, and walking arm-in-arm inside—it smelled like cinnamon, warm bread, and hazelnut. Dylan took the pleasure of ordering for both of them while Massie claimed a table more towards the back but still close enough to the window—Dylan returned with two steaming cups of white hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and cinnamon, perching across from Massie, who smiled her thanks as she took the styrofoam cup.

"You didn't have to pay, Dyl," Massie insisted.

"I know but I wanted to," she smiled wide, before taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "You know, I didn't get to say this before but I'm really glad you're back, Massie."

"Feels good to be back," she admitted.

Massie opened her mouth to say something else but Dylan was quick to cut her off, "So, I've been meaning to talk to you about something, and..." her voice trailed off, a huge lump forming in her throat—unsure of what was stopping her. There wasn't anything going on between Massie and Derrick, was there? If that was the case why would Massie care if Dylan had her tryst with Derrick? It was ancient history, eleven years had gone by, and just because they'd talked at Kendra's party didn't mean anything. So what was Dylan so worried about? "And I just wanted to be honest with you, because I, um... I saw you and Derrick talking at your mom's party, and I—"

"Dyl," Massie interrupted with a soft laugh and shake of her head. "You better not be asking my permission to be messing around with Derrick."

"Oh, no, I was just... I didn't want to..."

"It's your life, Dyl. And his. If you want to be together, don't let me get in your way. Besides, Derrick and I haven't talked since my mom's party." The brunette said simply—there was a small, understanding smile on Massie's face but Dylan could've sworn there was a flicker of sadness in those otherwise gleaming, kohl-lined amber eyes.

"So we're cool?" Dylan couldn't help but ask.

"Yeah, we're cool." Massie nodded.

They both reached across the table at the same time, enveloping the other girl in a tight hug—Dylan couldn't have been more relieved, and yet somehow she was still missing something else entirely. But she couldn't worry about that, not now, not when she got her best friend back.

.

Alicia sat on the cushy ottoman in Kristen's apartment, typing something into her iPhone while listening to whatever her blonde friend was saying, nodding when she thought appropriate and giving a half-hearted "mmm" every so often. Kristen was ranting about _something_ and she wished she had been paying attention, it made her feel like an awful friend for not doing so in the first place—but she was preoccupied with the incoming texts that were blowing up her phone. Apparently Dylan had gone out for coffee with Massie, and all was good in the world because they'd made amends—the redhead claimed it was because they had to work in the same Vogue office, but Alicia's gut instinct told her there was more to it than she gave off. Normally Alicia would've pried for more information, but she just didn't have the heart to. She couldn't help thinking that Massie was infiltrating her personal space, reclaiming her rightful place and kicking Alicia to the curb, even though she knew that was beyond ridiculous. Before Kendra's party they hadn't talked since their senior year of high school, and Alicia immediately bristled when Massie approached her—there was the teensiest part of her brain that knew all of her fears were irrational, that Massie definitely wasn't the same person she used to be in middle school. None of them were. But still. She'd worked so hard to be at the top, and the only person who could take her down was Massie Block. That is, if she even _wanted_ to.

"Leesh?" Kristen narrowed her aqua eyes, coming to a stop in front of her friend with her hands on her hips.

"Hmm?" Alicia finally looked up from her phone, eyes wide with innocence.

"Were you even listening to me?" Kristen asked.

"Partially," she admitted shamefully—the only thing she did know, based on the redness to her usually bright blue eyes, was that it involved either Kemp Hurley or Dempsey Soloman. Kristen didn't say anything, she was clearly offended that Alicia had been asked to come over, only for her to not even hear a word that she said. "I'm sorry, Kris," Alicia immediately continued with, "Dylan was texting me—she made up with Massie."

"Awesome," Kristen mumbled flatly, more on Alicia's expense than the news about Dylan—she knew the blonde was elated to hear that things were working out. She'd been the first one to reconcile with Massie, after all. Then, Kristen glanced at the watch on her wrist, and sighed, "I've gotta go, Leesh—there's a five o'clock meeting with the junior soccer league I offered to coach this summer."

Alicia stood from the ottoman, her face scrunching up ever so slightly, her heart heavy in her chest with guilt. Was Kristen just saying that to get rid of her? She didn't press the issue, instead she scooped up her bag from the floor and adjusted the strap on her heels. "I'll text you later, kay?"

"Sounds good, we'll make plans for tomorrow or something," Kristen said with the hint of a smile, showing Alicia out of her apartment and giving her a quick hug before closing the door at Alicia's retreating form.

.

Kristen did have a meeting at five o'clock, but not with the girls she'd be coaching during the summer—that was over the weekend. Rather she was planning a romantic evening with Kemp Hurley, and Alicia would know that if she'd actually been paying attention to what Kristen was saying the entire time she was over. Initially Kristen had invited Alicia over so she could contemplate things, those stirring feelings she had over the notorious playboy, and her one-time thing with Dempsey Soloman a few nights ago. The tears had unwillingly come forth, just thinking about it, let alone expressing those feelings out in the open, had caused her to get so upset—she didn't know what to do, and Alicia certainly wasn't any help on the matter. Kemp had found out about Kristen sleeping with Dempsey, but he hadn't been mad—they weren't exclusive, they weren't a real couple and they didn't have a title to their relationship. She wasn't sure where in the conversation she'd invited him over for dinner, but it had happened, and now she was cooking him an authentic Italian meal—complete with pasta and homemade marina sauce, garlic bread, a leafy salad with her mom's famous vinaigrette, and the best wine she could afford. As she was cooking, Kristen thought about giving Dylan or Massie a call—surely Dylan would be a better listener, and she knew better than anyone what it was like to have a lowkey relationship and be torn about things. Massie, on the other hand, would tell her to drop Kemp and stick with Dempsey—while she may have been gone, she was still essentially kept in the loop. Kemp was the face of his father's company, groomed to take over and become CEO by the end of the year when his father took early retirement, but his reputation still preceded him as it had done in both middle school and high school. She definitely favored Dempsey over Kemp, that was no secret even after all these years.

As she waited for the pasta to soften into gangly strands, her thoughts drifted to what Alicia had said about Dylan and Massie becoming friends again, and she couldn't help but smile. She was glad it worked out for them—she knew that Dylan had been overreacting by thinking Massie would implode over her not-so relationship with Derrick. And she decided that once her night with Kemp to an end, she was going to be up all hours into the morning on the phone with Dylan to hear about it.

She'd been so distracted by her thoughts that she hadn't even heard her phone ping with a new notification. She lowered the heat on the stove for the sauce so it didn't boil over, checked once more on the garlic bread, and then picked up her Galaxy S8. It was a news update on her Twitter feed.

** kurleyhemp _added a new photo!_**

Kristen clicked on the post to open up Twitter, expecting it to be an outfit update for his evening with Kristen, without obviously mentioning his plans. Her mouth dried up at the sight of him in a tailored charcoal suit that clung to his muscular build, making his bright eyes pop against his dark complexion. His dark hair was slicked back, though it looked like he'd just gotten a haircut as well. But it wasn't just Kemp in this picture, Kristen soon realized. At his side, there was _another_ willowy blonde on his arm, with Tiffany-box blue eyes, draped all over him in a slinky red dress that glittered like it was made of rubies. She had a wide smile, her teeth extra white against the background of her pale skin and pouty crimson lips. There was no caption to the photo, but Kristen knew they had to be attending some kind of formal event for them to be dressed to the Nines. Suddenly, Kristen had the urge to throw everything she'd slaved over cooking across the room and scream at the top of her lungs. _I should have known better_, Kristen thought to herself as she backed out of Twitter to pull up her messages. There was nothing in her thread with Kemp from the entire day, or even week, that alluded he wouldn't be able to come over for dinner, and that angered her even more. He was fully just going to _stand her up_ and attend _something_ with this bimbo.

_Ping._

**MASSIE: **R ᴜ ᴏᴋᴀʏ?

Kristen swallowed hard—she must've seen Kemp's Twitter pic, and if Kristen had mentioned her plans for the evening, Massie would immediately jump to make sure she wasn't sobbing while shoving ice cream into her mouth. Kristen replied that she was fine, but if she was hungry she was more than welcome to come join her for dinner—the same offer went out to Claire and Dylan shortly after they texted in to check on their friend after seeing Kemp's post. Kristen tried not to bristle at the specific exclusion of Alicia, but she tried to reason that Alicia must have other plans for the evening or generally didn't care—but that was Kristen also being sour with her friend about earlier.

* * *

Author's Note: im honestly not sure where i was going with this chapter but obviously there's more to it than I've written, especially when it comes to Dylan, Massie and Derrick. Alicia is kind of shitty but we learn more about what's been bothering her in the next chapter, it's more than just Massie for sure, as well as Claire's secret finally being let out.


	6. Clarity

Massie's manicured thumbnail tapped absently at the screen of her iPhone, the hollow sound being the only thing to fill the otherwise dreadful silence of her bedroom. She'd been contemplating how to respond to her former beau's text message for what felt like twenty minutes, but it only been three—how could she possibly explain to him the situation, that she'd backed off because of Dylan, despite how amazing their date had been? That night had been utterly perfect, the way he'd cooked for her, his attentiveness and selfless manner throughout the entire night, how he seemed to know exactly what she wanted without her having to say anything—in every possible way. He was _perfect_, exactly the person she needed in her life after the shit-show that was James Wright. But Dylan was messing around with him, and a slimey feeling seeped through Massie's skin after their conversation at the café. There was no way she could continue this rendezvous with Derrick, not if she wanted to be friends with Dylan again—and she wouldn't, at least not until Derrick made it clear on where they (Massie and Derrick) stood, and whether or not he had _those _type of feelings for Dylan. She wouldn't succumb to a booty call, she wanted things to be _real _with Derrick—to have something more than just meaningless sex, but from the way their date had gone she knew it was anything but.

_Ping._

**Derrick: **_did I do something wrong? _

Massie groaned quietly—it was complicated, possibly the exact opposite. Other than the fact _he _hadn't said anything about his physical relationship with Dylan, not when they first started talking, and certainly not before they christened the kitchen at Rousseau's. For right now Massie would just have to bite the bullet.

**Massie: **_it's nothing you did..._

A response came within seconds.

**Derrick: **_what is it then?_

**Massie: **_I don't think I should dive into things just yet... I need to focus on my career, mend a massive heartbreak, you know that sort of thing. _

Derrick didn't respond after that, and it was as close to the truth as she could get. She _did _want to focus on her budding status within the fashion industry, it would be impossible for her to do that if she leaped into bed with Derrick, or that's what she was gonna convince herself anyway—and she _was _mending a massive heartbreak, not just the whole thing with Derrick but her relationship with James that had lasted a lot longer than it honestly should have. Nobody knew about what went on, not even her mother, and she planned to keep it that way unless specifically asked.

With Derrick's silence, she couldn't help wondering if he actually bought what she was trying to sell. To avoid temptation from elaborating (or coming clean) she placed her iPhone face down on the bedside table, leaped up from her bed, and decided to do a little organizing. Her closet was still at its barest, several boxes needed to be unpacked—she'd tackled every other room in the four-bedroom Greco style townhouse expect for her own bedroom.

"Alexa, play Truth Hurts by Lizzo," Massie commanded.

_Now playing Truth Hurts by Lizzo on Pandora radio_, the feminine electronic voice replied, and soon enough the upbeat self-confidence bop filled the room. She started thrashing, belting out along with Lizzo at the top of her lungs while dancing around, having her own montage as she put her belongings in their proper place until she was one hundred percent satisfied. By the time she was done, her nostrils were filled with notes of mint, sandalwood, and spice—a very masculine fragrance that was oddly appealing, she tried not to think of how it reminded her of Derrick. The perfectly made four-poster bed was in the far corner, with a plush satin chaise at the foot—her satin sheets were, of course, lavender and slate gray. A black marble desk was pushed in front of the window, holding a variety of pens and sharpie markers, stacks of magazines, papers, and her thin silver MacBook laptop—right above that was a pushpin board with Polaroid photos tacked to it, several sticky notes, and a dry erase board. Lined up on the windowsill were mason jar candles, empty wine bottles with flowers protruding from the mouth, and tiny bottles of perfume samples. Every available surface was strewn with colorful pillows, and when she flicked on the switch a lamp glowed to life in the corner, with tiny pink and white lights strung around the entire perimeter of the room. It was a job well done in comparison to the once-barren stark white walls and blond wood floor.

Out of breath, her body suddenly aching, especially after organizing her closet, she flopped down onto her mattress as she pulled her phone from the bedside table—it had been over an hour since she started, and Derrick replied only ten minutes ago. She nipped at her bottom lip, opening up the message.

**Derrick: **_is this because of Dylan_

Massie yelped as she accidentally bit down on her tongue; she'd clenched her teeth and exhaled a sharp breath through her nostrils to get over the sudden pain in her mouth. _Damn it, Derrick_. How could he possibly see through her so easily? Before Massie could respond, her screen filled with an incoming call—from Derrick himself. She hesitated only a moment before answering the call, pressing the phone to her ear.

"Hello?" She mumbled softly.

"Massie, please don't tell me this is because of Dylan—because there's nothing going on between me and her," he said, his tone was firm and somehow passionate. "I mean, I don't feel anything for her, and as far as I know, she doesn't have feelings for me either." He hurriedly continued, but now he sounded a little confused. As if he was missing something. "Every time she and I have gotten together, it was just sex—I—I'm sorry, you probably didn't want to hear that, but—"

"Shut up," She deadpanned. "Please."

"No, you need to hear _my _side of things before you suddenly decide to cut me off from your life." Derrick demanded. Massie was about to retort that she wasn't cutting him out of her life, but given the fact that it's been four days since their date, and three days since they'd last spoken to each other (because Massie was ignoring him), not to mention Derrick never got the chance to take her out the following night as they'd discussed, it certainly did seem that way. "If Dylan feels anything for me other than just wanting good sex whenever she wants, she's never said anything to me to imply otherwise. I haven't had any emotional connection toward her _like that _since we were teenagers. It was Dylan's idea for us to keep things platonic, and after a while, I got fed up with her thinking she had some kind of claim over me while she was going out hooking up with other guys."

Massie chewed the inside of her cheek—she had no idea what kind of arrangement Dylan and Derrick had, but from the way her redhaired friend made it seem, things were more than that. And with Derrick telling her otherwise, Massie wasn't sure how to feel or what to say. Thankfully Derrick kept on going, giving her time to process and think of how to respond.

"Massie, the other night was incredible. And I'll be completely honest with you—nobody has ever asked me to cook for them, they don't feel comfortable doing so because it's what I do all day long. And I _loved _it. I could cook for you every night, I will if you want me to." Derrick's voice began to trail off, and Massie let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in. "Tell me right now you didn't have a good time with me, that you aren't interested in me at all, and—and I still won't give up."

"Derr...ick..." she whined into the phone, a rather unattractive sound that made Massie feel almost childish. "I did have a great time with you, an _amazing _time, it's just that... well... I really want to make things right with my friends, and I can't do that if I'm seeing _you_."

"Massie Block," he said with a slight sigh, but almost sounding out of breath. Like she literally took it out of him.

And then there was a knock on the door downstairs, as well as a triple pressing of the doorbell.

"I'll call you right back," she murmured, ending the call and tucking the phone into her pocket, just in case it happened to be Dylan standing on her front porch. She fluffed her hair, then decided to twist it into a bun that flopped against the nape of her neck while she walked, as she made her way down the stairs.

She wondered if she looked as drained as she felt, and not even from organizing her bedroom, then pushed that thought out of her head as she threw open the front door—much to her surprise, or maybe not at all, there stood Derrick Harrington, in baggy black sweatpants and a hoodie pulled taut down his torso. She noticed on his feet that he wore white socks with a pair of black Adidas men's sandals—had he left on a whim?

"What are you doing here?" Massie asked, lightly scraping the nail of her index finger against the inner part of the front door.

"This seemed a little too personal for a phone call," Derrick admitted. Basking in the moonlight, Massie hadn't even realized it'd gotten so late, Derrick looked more sincere—and sexy—than ever. The moon's soft glow practically turned his dirty blonde hair silver, and his usually evenly tanned skin was rivaling Edward Cullen's paleness.

"Um," she fumbled in her brain for something to say but came up short, and he gave her a teasing smile.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" Derrick asked.

"I—uh, sure, yeah, come inside." Massie stepped out of the way for him to enter her home, not trying to think of how he knew where she lived in the first place. From what she could recall it had never come up in their conversations, which meant he'd _asked around. _He **wanted **to find her. And that made her flush with a pleasant warmth from head to toe, whether she liked it or not.

Derrick purposely wedged himself between Massie, despite there being plenty of room for him to go around her. His hands brushed over her hips, and she had to choke back a soft purr, quickly stepping out of his reach and closing the door behind him. She couldn't think about him coming all this way to find her, to talk to her in person, to show her how much he really wants this—but isn't that exactly what _she _wanted? Damn it all to _heck_.

"I'm not sure what else you want me to do here, Block—I'm literally standing in your foyer, in my pajamas, after hailing a cab from across town. I _ran _a whole block because there was traffic and it was taking too long." Derrick expressed, he turned to face her, and Massie wished she had the ability to look away. But he just looked so cute, sounded so sincere, that Massie could only think of grabbing him by the face and kissing him all over.

"I... it's complicated, Derrick. Can't you see that?" Massie whimpered.

"_You_'re making it complicated, can't _you _see _that_?" Derrick said pointedly, and Massie knew he was right. Dylan never acted on her supposed feelings for Derrick, it appeared to be nothing more than just sex between them, and _Derrick _wanted to be with Massie. Just as she did him. She knew it wasn't fair to put her feelings for Derrick on hold just because of Dylan, but she also didn't want to lose Dylan's friendship over a boy. _Again_. Not to mention, _she _didn't want to be the one to initiate _that _conversation.

"Alright," Massie breathed out slowly, suddenly aware that Derrick was standing directly in front of her—his eyelashes were practically touching hers, she could feel his breath tickling her upper lip. "But _you _have to break things off with Dylan, and make sure you're both clear on the aspect. I still want to be Dylan's friend, and I wanna be with you, too. Okay?"

Rather than responding, Derrick's hands were on her hips and sliding down to gripping beneath her thighs; he lifted Massie off the ground to which she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. One simple nod, one firm kiss—her back was pressed into the nearest wall, their bodies flush together, nipping and kneading and kissing every inch their mouths could possibly touch. A mingling of breath, intertwining them as one, as things grew more heated. But Massie made sure that things didn't go too far, something Derrick was surprisingly okay with—it wasn't just sex, it felt unspoken between them that it needed to be established early on, starting now.

* * *

Alicia slid the pendant along her chain anxiously, her leg jiggling up and down in time with an animated beat inside of her head. She was currently seated outside the main office for a broadcasting station, they were looking for a new hire and Len, her father, had encouraged her to jump right on it. For the last several days she'd been spending a lot of time with her parents, having the sudden need for a small break from her boyfriend after the not-so-proposal—during that time, sleeping in her old bedroom, seeing everything her parents didn't dare depart with that once made her whole that she'd let go of over the years, it reminded Alicia of who she wanted to be: a news anchor, a journalist, a _star_. Dancing was a nice hobby, and maybe one day she'd become the next Jennifer Lopez, but she would always be a journalist at heart—it wasn't like she didn't have the experience, confidence, or style to be in front of the camera. For years Alicia was the voice of BOCD, delivering the news every morning and during lunch time—once high school hit they went digital, having her set up in front of a camera crew that would televise the news rather than over the PA system. She had gone to NYU for four years, but part of her had given up—temporarily—on Journalism when she didn't land a job right away, so she'd thrown herself into performing with Manhattan's most elite and prestigious dance academy. And now, here she was, awaiting her first actual interview with a news station—she'd been so thrilled when receiving that call the night before, she'd rush ordered a whole new outfit from Bloomingdale's, which arrived that morning via UPS. Her father rated her a 11 out of 10 for her shale gray Lafayette 148 New York acclaimed skinny Mercer pants, floral Fashion Union 'Viviene' cut out cropped top, and black suede Jimmy Choo Women's Romy 85 pointed toe pumps. Her alimunium/ silver Michael Kors tote was perched on her lap. Her makeup was applied lightly when it came to the highlighter and contouring, her face was perfect as it was, but it was important that her smoky eye and lips were bold enough in case they wanted to hire her on the spot. Her only form of jewelry was the necklace that Josh has given her, and diamond studs in her ears—fiddling with the pendant made her wish he was there with her, but it also occurred to her that she hadn't even _told_ Josh about the interview. Her brain rationed that she didn't want to break the news until it was official, which made sense, so she didn't get her hopes up—or theirs.

"Miss Rivera?" A female's voice interrupted Alicia's thoughts, and her sparkling brown eyes flickered over to the dishwater-blonde wearing a thin light blue tank top, gray blazer, and khaki capris. "Right this way," she smiled barely showing any teeth.

Alicia rose up from the chair, and slid her bag to hanging over her shoulder. She strode after the blonde, who swept her through a heavy burgundy door, and gestured toward the empty chair across from the desk she assumed belonged to the person who would be conducting her interview.

"Dalton will be with you in a few minutes, would you like a glass of water or a latte?" The woman asked; Alicia thought she sounded bored—like she'd rather be doing anything else but.

"No thank you," Alicia smiled politely.

With a brisk nod, she exited the room—allowing Alicia to take a look around the office while she waited for her interviewer. There were several diplomas hanging on the wall as well as framed photos of an attractive thirty-something male standing with celebrities; the desk was mahogany and cluttered with papers and folders, the computer was the newest iMac. A winged chair was on the opposite side of the desk, there were several monitors that overlooked different parts of the studio, and a hidden radio was playing the latest Billie Eilish song.

The door clicked open, and in walked the man from the photos—he had Zac Efron's spiked dark brown hair and striking blue eyes, but he could pass off as the splittingg image of a young Josh Hartnett with Channing Tatum muscles. His casual clothes weren't designer, and his smile was relaxed. Alicia felt very overdressed in comparison.

"You must be Alicia Rivera," the guy said, helping himself to the seat across from her, and holding his hand out. "I'm Dalton Wentworth, the executive producer for Channel 7." He introduced himself, his smile growing wider for the briefest of moments before he became serious. "I've looked over your resume, and I've gotta say, Miss Rivera, I'm quite impressed by your dedication to being a reporter, _though _I'm a little curious as to the gap between now and when you graduated NYU."

His blue eyes held hers and her face grew hot, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and odd pleasure sweeping through her. "I wasn't—this is actually my first interview since NYU." She admitted, stopping herself from lowering her eyes. It was always best to maintain eye contact even if you were nervous.

"I'm surprised," Dalton said—and he genuinely looked it. "You held an anchor position for six years, both your middle school and high school directors spoke so highly of you. So did the news team at NYU."

"Oh," was all she could think of saying.

"You're a very interesting girl, Alicia, I've got to admit." Dalton continued, he reached for something on his desk and began skimming through the sheet of paper. "Tell me, what did you do in the last few years to fill in this gap?"

"I performed for a dance academy here in Manhattan, was scouted here and there, but nothing seemed to stick." She replied.

"Something tells me you enjoy being in front of a crowd," he chuckled a little; Alicia couldn't bring herself to answer him—it was one of those statements that didn't require a response.

They continued to talk for a few more minutes before Dalton began spewing different scenarios that could happen while live on national television, testing her response time and physical reaction. He also ran a few lines with her, as if she were in the studio, rather than inside his office. Based on the twinkle in his eyes, Alicia felt as if she'd passed his test, and her insides began to swell with pride.

"We'll give you a call by the end of tomorrow," Dalton insisted when they were done, rising out of his seat—initiating Alicia to do the same—and they firmly shook hands as a departure. Dalton saw Alicia out of his office, while the same blonde from before ushered Alicia from the building.

She waited until she was in her family's limo to pull out her cell phone—she had a good feeling about this interview, her dad said everything happened for a reason and that she was a girl worth waiting for, so maybe this was her calling—she'd waited so long because this was where she was meant to be. _I just finished an interview with ch7, I think I got the job. They're gonna let me know by the end of tomorrow! Fingers crossed! _An individual text was sent to Josh, and then she sent the same thing to her friends.

_Ping. _

**Claire: **_congrats! I know you'll get it. _

**Dylan: **_want me or my mom to give them a call? ;) _

Alicia blushed, contemplating the offer, whether she was joking or not. As badly as she wanted this job, should she have Dylan or Merri-Lee call in to pull a few strings to ensure the job was hers? Sure enough if Dalton had a thirty second conversation with either of the Marvil women, the job was secured. But at the same time, she wanted to get this all on her own—no matter how tempting it was to name drop.

Suddenly, Alicia was overcome by a wave of nostalgia—she wanted to share this news with Massie Block more than anything, or anyone, else. Nobody knew how _big_ this was, the former alpha knew this more than anyone that _this _was Alicia's literal dream. But then she thought about how snobby she'd acted at Kendra's party toward Massie. And any other time Massie had tried to interact with her in the past. She thought about how Massie had come to her big showcase a couple years ago and she'd immediately brushed it off; she'd never found out what Massie wanted to tell her. Alicia nibbled on her lower lip, flicking through her contact list until she landed on Massie's info, her thumb hovering over the options to either call or text this user. _Could she really do it? Was she overreacting? Did Massie really only want peace? Or would things ultimately go back to the way things used to be when they were in middle school? _

As if speaking for itself, the limo's tires went over a pothole, causing Alicia's phone to slip in her grasp from the sudden jostle of the car, with her thumb jabbing down at the phone to keep it from flying onto the floor.

_Dialing Queen Bitch... Connected... __0:01 ... _

Alicia gulped loudly, her fingers frozen and her eyes locked on the screen—watching as the numbers went higher, listening to the sound of the phone ringing. She was paralyzed. It was far too late to turn back now, she couldn't just _hang up_. Not now. That point had passed.

And then—

"Hello?" The melodic voice chimed into the phone, not the least bit concerned as to why Alicia might be calling her.


	7. Dirty Little Secret

_Why do you always drop everything for Massie Block? It's not like she's been a very good friend to you lately. _

It was Cam's choice of words that kept circling in Claire's brain as she, not for the first time that afternoon, wondered just exactly how _she _was the one riding in the backseat of a luxury town car with Massie Block instead of Dylan—according to the text she'd received the night before, Massie wanted her to accompany her to a meeting with somebody important for moral support. It was a little strange but at the same time Claire had been thrilled, she'd been the one Massie wanted to bring along. Sure, Massie had been very blunt with Claire when Kristen brought her to the Fisher house, but it was within good reason. And when they'd gotten called to Kristen's apartment for dinner after Kemp stood her up, they'd had very little interaction, though enough of it to be civil and sort of friendly. Not to make Claire think there was any tension between them. And for all Claire knew, this little trip was Massie's way of beginning to slowly mend their friendship. So who was she to complain? _Cam_, on the other hand, had given her an earful just an hour ago about how he really felt when it came to her friendship with Massie, or rather how Claire basically became an entirely different person whenever the girl was around—or just present in her life. To further prove his point, as she'd walked out the door, she'd rolled her eyes and snorted at Cam's comments before kissing her daughter goodbye on the head. Very un-Claire.

And now here she was, staring out the tinted window, sitting in a semi-comfortable silence, with the drop-down television tuned to some random channel that must've been playing when Massie first got in the car, but neither girl bothered with changing it the entire drive. Claire wished she could come up with some way to ease into a conversation with Massie, but nothing came to mind—of course she wanted to know where they were going but Massie said via text message the night before that she couldn't give too many details because it was confidential. She thought of complimenting the brunette's outfit; Massie looked as comfy-glamorous as ever in a pair of white Rag Bone skinny jeans, a lavender Free People 'Best Of You' crochet sweater over what looked like a cream colored tank top, and Tory Burch woven flats. Her chestnut hair was twisted into a bun held together by a diamond clip. A champagne-colored Ralph Lauren tote sat on the carpeted floor next to her feet. Being honest, Claire felt more relaxed next to _this _version of Massie than she ever did back when they were in middle school. Heck, she preferred _this _over being around Dylan or Alicia because of their tendency to have over-the-top wardrobes for a lot of occasions.

"We're here," Massie announced, pulling Claire from her thoughts—Claire scooped her bag over her shoulder and climbed out of the car after the brunette. They stood in front of a limestone building that gleamed in the early afternoon sun, Claire resisted the urge to slide on a pair of sunglasses from the glare—suddenly feeling nervous, even though she couldn't pinpoint why.

Silently Claire followed after Massie through the shined-to-perfection glass revolving doors, shuffling on the girl's heels until they were in a ritzy lobby packed with expensive leather furniture, teardrop chandeliers, red sparkle-infused rugs throughout the vast foyer and liners for the staircases, men and women dressed to the Nines, and spiral marble stands. Massie didn't wait around for somebody, she marched right over to the U-shaped clergy desk, tapped her hand on the bell and softly cleared her throat—Claire felt obligated to linger back while she talked to the receptionist, pretending to rifle through her bag and rock lightly on the kitten heel of her sandal.

"Come on," Massie's voice commanded from a couple feet away, gesturing for Claire to trail behind her once more. They made a stop at the gold-trimmed elevator, Massie's manicured finger jabbing at the button for the eleventh floor, and rode up in silence yet again. Claire was feeling jittery at this point, the bottoms of her feet tingling with anticipation as to what this meeting would hold—sure she was only a background character in this scenario but maybe she could throw some input in. Dylan certainly would.

The elevator dinged when they reached the eleventh floor, and together the girls stepped out into a hallway just as glamorous as the main floor. Claire eyed the ornate decor hanging on the walls, shuffling her flats through the red shag carpeting, and lightly ghosting her index finger along the fluer-de-lis wallpaper that was softer than velvet. She, indeed, was highly impressed—and could only imagine what the other parts of the building looked like. Twenty steps later, Massie and Claire stopped in front of room 1190, and the brunette tapped her knuckles three times on the glossy oak door.

"You nervous?" Claire finally murmured out the corner of her mouth, but Massie remained silent, staring ahead as they waited for their host to open up. The blonde swallowed hard; Massie certainly would never _openly _admit her feelings—she was a professional, after all.

The seconds ticked by, turning into minutes, and after what felt like three hours, the lock finally clicked and the door creaked open. At first Claire didn't get it, her brain was ten steps behind and struggling to play catch up—the woman had naturally tan skin that Claire could only _dream_ of, her wavy raven-black hair hung like a silk curtain down her back, and her ample breasts were pronounced by the tight pink V-neck Ralph Lauren sweater that she wore. Tucked into the little hollow area of her collar bone was a diamond pendant. Her features muddled together when Claire first saw her, perhaps maybe those were the tears welling in her eyes, but slowly they pieced together to form none other than the strikingly exotic beauty she knew very well to be Alicia Rivera. Claire's throat suddenly felt hot and itchy, closing up dryly, like the beginning of an allergic reaction—she didn't know what to think of_ why _Massie needed _her _there if this "meeting" was with _Alicia_.

Her panicked blue eyes swiveled to Massie, but her expression gave away nothing as Alicia invited both of them inside her home—Claire now realized this was Alicia and Josh's building, and Massie must have set something up. The words from her visit drifted into Claire's mind almost immediately, and she wished she listened to Cam about not going to this meeting with Massie. _I'm not gonna keep your secret forever_, that's what she'd told Claire when she was at her house with Kristen. And part of Claire hoped that there hadn't been some kind of deadline where she'd have to come clean by. But apparently, there was. She'd had more than enough time to do it herself, and Claire chose to remain silent—she didn't think Massie was keeping tabs, either.

Claire felt nauseous now, her stomach roiling and her mouth tasting like pennies, as she stepped inside Alicia's apartment after Massie. The three of them were quiet, Alicia led them into the living room, and Claire took this opportunity to look around—she'd never been invited to Alicia's apartment before; she was sure none of the girls had. So what made Massie Block so special?

"Do you want anything to drink?" Alicia asked, finally breaking the silence—she was poised halfway between sitting and standing, as if she'd remembered to be a polite hostess right before she was going to take a seat on the winged chair by the window.

"Water," the girls replied in unison. Alicia gave a small nod, whisking out into the kitchen then returning with three glasses of water, putting them on the coffee table.

"So, Massie," Alicia cleared her throat, giving a tentative smile, "I'm really glad you decided to meet with me today. So much has happened, and I have so much to tell y—"

"How funny, _Claire _has something she wants to tell _you_, too." Massie briskly interrupted, glancing briefly at the blonde with razor sharp daggers protruding from her amber eyes. "I'm _so _glad we could all get together, just the three of us."

"I was wondering why you brought Claire..." Alicia murmured, her voice so soft that she thought she might've imagined it.

_I wouldn't have come if I'd known I would be walking into this trap, _Claire immediately thought to herself. Something she wouldn't dare say outloud.

"Claire, you look a little paler than usual, sweetheart," Massie crooned—it was strange how her voice adapted so quickly, how concerned and motherly she could become. "And a little sick—oh, you're not pregnant again, are you?"

Claire choked back a cough, reaching for her glass of water and widening her eyes subtly at Massie for her to _stop_. But the brunette's decoder must have been shut off, because she didn't seem to notice the silent plea.

"Leesh, don't you think she looks a little worse for wear?" Massie asked, her attention never leaving Claire's face. Studying her. As if afraid to take her eyes off Claire, who most definitely would _run _the first chance she got.

"Massie _is _right, you look like you're about to pass out." Alicia said—only she sounded genuine. She had no clue that Massie was steering this conversation into unchartered, _dangerous _territory. "Do you want advil or something, Claire? Mass, did she look like this when you picked her up?"

"No," she replied simply, and Claire gave a small shrug.

"I, uh... I didn't get a chance to eat this morning," Claire lied. "I'm alright though, thanks for asking."

Alicia's phone pinged with a new text message, with her head turned down and attention directed at her iPhone, Claire could _feel _Massie glaring at her—silently telling her to speak up now, on her own free will, or Massie was going to open that can of worms—and she won't be nice about it, either. But how could Claire _possibly _initiate this conversation? Yes, she'd been in the wrong from the very beginning, and it was even worse when she'd let it go on for so long without being said, but it wasn't like Claire could just—

"Sorry 'bout that," Alicia giggled softly as she turned her phone face down on the coffee table, "that was just Josh—we are planning to get away for a few days to celebrate the big news."

_Big news_? Did that mean Josh _finally_ proposed to Alicia? Claire stole a quick glance at her friend's hand but didn't see any diamond ring on the fourth finger. If they weren't engaged, what could they be celebrating? Claire was eager to know. But unfortunately, Massie stole the show—naturally.

"How _is _Josh doing these days? Haven't heard from him in a while, is he still doing the new RL campaign?" Massie asked curiously, but before Alicia could respond—Massie already knew the answer—she'd continued with, "_Claire_, honey, are you still _close_ with Josh?"

"Uh, not really no. I only see him when it's group date night, or when him and Cam play soccer in the backyard," Claire cleared her throat—she was beginning to resent everything that was Massie Block, but she knew she deserved this. Massie had segued this conversation to allow Claire to say something to Alicia, but for some reason she just couldn't get the words out—she clammed up at the very thought of letting it all out, her darkest secret. It was something she wanted to hold onto, to keep to herself forever, because she knew that once the words were spoken they couldn't be taken back and her entire life would be over.

"Honestly, Alicia, I don't know how you do it." Massie said boldly, leaning back against the sofa after finally grabbing her own glass of water, taking a tepid sip of the cold drink.

"Do what?" Alicia cocked her head.

_Please no. Please no. Please no. Shut the fuck up, Massie. God, if you can hear me, plug this conversation now and I'll be a better person, I'll come clean when I'm ready, I'll go to church every Sunday. Just don't let it be like this._

A concerned crease dented Massie's forehead, but Claire knew it was all for show. "Be so... _okay_ with Josh hanging around Claire, after the history they have."

Claire thought quickly to interject, "you're one to talk, wasn't it hard seeing Dylan and Derrick together back in middle school ? And see them s_till _together?"

But she was ignored, she knew it wasn't the same. At all. It was worth an attempt.

"What do you—what are you talking about? That was ages ago, Massie. Josh liked Claire but she didn't like him back, and they kissed because of my stupid cousin's lies. You know that. I was over it back in seventh grade. Why are you bringing up ancient history?" Alicia looked dumbfounded, and a little annoyed that _this _was the conversation they were having.

"I'm talking about the night of Skye Hamilton's party."

And there it was, the cracking wide open of the vault door to Claire's dirty little secret. The one that Claire had trusted Massie with for the last couple years, because she never thought it would be held over her head. How foolish she had been.

"Skye Hamilton's... engagement party...?" Alicia guesses—it didn't seem so long ago but it already been two and a half years, if that. Claire could tell from the look on her face, any annoyance she previously had had disintegrated, that she was trying to remember that night. "What does that—?"

"I'm surprised you didn't—"

"For fucks sake, Massie Block," Claire cut in sharply, though her voice shook and cracked like she was on the verge of tears. But her attention was on Alicia, her hands were balled into tight fists, clenched at her sides and her spine was ramrod straight. She dug the tiny heels of her flats into the floor as she mustered the courage to continue with what would now become the worst day of her life. "Alicia, I'm _really _sorry that you have to find out this way—I never wanted this to happen, any of it."

Alicia opened her mouth to speak, to question, but Claire couldn't let her. Not when she might lose her nerve.

"Alicia, the night of Skye's engagement party, I stayed out later than the rest of you—I don't think I went to bed until maybe four a.m., Cam and I got into a fight and I just wanted to get _drunk_, I wanted to forget my feelings and just have fun for once in my life." Claire said—which was true, thinking back to that night she'd been tired of being the good girl. While she couldn't remember what her and Cam had fought about, she did know that the events following afterward had been a middle finger at the girl Claire used to be. Which wasn't a very good excuse for her actions, regardless. "I don't remember much from that night except that I... I..." the tears had started to flow before she could stop them, and she hated the fire growing in the pit of her belly as her memory relayed the feeling of Josh's hands on her body, how he hadn't treated her like she was some fragile creature, and showed her one of the most amazing sexual experiences of her existence. _Cam couldn't compare_, a tiny voice said in the back of her mind, and it only made her cry harder. She had a wild night with Josh Hotz, and she only wished that were the worst part of it all.

"Claire..." Alicia's voice was razor sharp, her features had darkened and her eyes shined with a slow burning rage. "What. Did. You. Do."

"I slept with Josh," she whispered through her tears.

A sharp pain suddenly flooded the right side of Claire's face, and it took her a moment to register that Alicia was on her feet, standing in front of her, with the palm of her hand bright red—she had slapped Claire, and honestly Claire would've preferred to be punched in the eye.

"Did it happen again?" Alicia asked, her voice eerily calm but still sharp enough to cut through Claire's heart.

"No," she said, telling the truth—though she still couldn't bring herself to look Alicia in the eye.

Alicia moved, and Claire couldn't help ducking out of the way—afraid that Alicia was going to hit her again even though she deserved it, but instead she shifted her body to face Massie, her teeth bared like a bulldog's. "You _knew _about this?"

"I tried to tell you," Massie said. "That night I came to see you.

Claire knit her eyebrows together—Massie had tried to tell Alicia what happened? When had she paid Alicia a visit? And she'd really betray Claire like that? But once again, Claire had no room to talk, or to make judgement, or to do anything, really.

"The night of my performance?" Alicia squeaked out.

"Yes." She breathed out, "I couldn't ... I didn't want to do it that night, I was so afraid I'd mess up your big performance from dropping that on you, so I was a little relieved when you decided I wasn't worth your time."

"I never came to find you after the show," Alicia nodded slowly. "But why did you wait so long to tell me _now_?"

"I thought Claire would've said something by now." Massie said. "And I told her when I first got back that I wasn't going to keep her secret forever—while it's not my personal business, or even my secret to tell, I still felt horrible to just _know _what happened."

"Wh—"

"I was never okay with what Claire did, I thought it was a really shitty thing to do—but again, it wasn't _my _secret to tell. And when I tried to tell you, I didn't even think you would believe me, so I let nature take its course, which is why Claire and I stopped speaking to each other. She tried to tell me that it was better to just pretend it never happened, that nobody ever had to know, because it wasn't like Josh had any feelings for her and she's married to Cam—I let it go, I wasn't gonna argue with her, and I told her to never speak to me again if that's how she was gonna be. And then James cheated on me, got a girl pregnant—forced her to get an abortion. Hit me when I got mad at his actions. Then went to go get high with his friends. This happened three more times before I finally got fed up, broke up with him, and left him in California."

Neither Alicia or Claire knew what to say, but didn't _dare _look at each other with Massie's revelation. Her amber eyes were shining with angry tears but she quickly wiped them away, her shoulders were filled with a steely tension and the muscles in her jaw were taut. _No wonder Massie wanted me to say something so badly_, Claire thought. And then a lonely flower bloomed in Claire's chest for Massie—she had to deal with that all on her own, with nobody around. Not even her parents, who were still living in London at the time, probably. But then it struck Claire that James had gotten somebody _pregnant_. _Three _somebodies. Or maybe the same girl _three times_. There was no elaboration and she was sure Massie didn't want to specify. The lonely flower broke apart into tiny pieces, her heart now crackling like a lattice web—she had to do it. She had to say it. It was now or never.

"Alicia," Claire spoke up, her voice gritty and low. "What I'm about to tell you... it can't leave this room, not until _I'm _ready, okay? For everyone's sake, please do not repeat this."

Alicia whirled around to face her, her eyes narrowed. "And why should _I _keep your filthy secrets to myself when you didn't tell me for _two years _that you slept with my boyfriend?"

"Because I got pregnant after Josh and I slept together," she blurted out—it wasn't the way she wanted it to come out, but now that it did, there was no going back.

"What?" Alicia's face fell, and Claire was sure that her heart wasn't prepared for that, at all.

"We didn't use protection... and it had been a while since Cam and I had sex," Claire started, her voice trailing off—allowing Alicia to put things together on her own.

A light went on in Alicia's head, she could see it in her suddenly flat brown eyes, and while Claire was whole heartedly prepared for another slap across the face or even a punch, all Alicia did was point at her.

"Get out." She said through clenched teeth, getting in Claire's face. "Get the fuck out of my house, stay away from me, stay away from Josh. _Don't ever talk to me again_."

Claire looked at Massie, but she knew now that there would be no support on her end. Nodding, Claire grabbed her bag from the floor, side-stepped around Alicia and exited the apartment without so much as a glance back at the two girls. She was officially exiled from the Pretty Committee, probably forever. And she could only imagine what was going to happen when the news broke out that Claire was a dirty little tramp.

The tears came harder this time, rolling down her cheeks hot and fast. She didn't even bother taking the elevator, or hailing a cab—she needed to be as far away from association as possible, while walking all the way back to her house. The distance didn't matter, she knew that it was only a matter of time before Cam found out, and he would need all the time in the world to process his supposed wife's indiscretions.

* * *

author's note: **_and there you have it_**, Claire's big secret is finally out. I wanted to write a little more but I also wanted to end it there because I felt something this big deserved to have an entire chapter dedicated to it. Next chapter is going to focus on the aftermath of Claire's reveal, _that_ conversation between Derrick and Dylan, and we're gonna go a little deeper into Massie's past relationship with James-more specifically why it hurt Massie so much after all this time that Claire still didn't say anything to Alicia about her tryst with Josh. I won't share too much more about what I have planned but definitely stay tuned, another chapter should be posted soon, I promise.


	8. Thinking Out Loud

**_ riveratap posted a photo_**_**  
massblock commented "#reunited #bffs"**_**_  
massblock commented "#draaaaaaanks"_****_  
marvilousdyl commented "FABulous FOUR"_****_  
kristmicory commented "I missed this"_****_  
jotzhosh commented "what did I miss?"_****_  
kurleyhemp commented "females r so weird"_**

* * *

_Late Afternoon_

Her feet dragged through the sheepskin rug, she could barely feel the silky texture against her bare skin as she paced back and forth_—_her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, her eyes were trained on the floor as she incoherently muttered to herself. Massie thought she was taking it surprisingly well, all things considered. Alicia hadn't looked in her direction since she started walking the length of her entire living room after she-who-shall-not-be-named left, probably cursing that blonde six ways to Sunday and hoping karma bites her in the ass. Which had been almost twenty minutes ago, and Massie was unsure of what to do next—she certainly felt relieved that Alicia finally knew the truth. It had been such a burden on her own shoulders to hold onto this information for so long and not be able to tell _anyone_. Massie tried to be a good friend to Claire in the beginning but she'd given her so many chances to be honest about what happened between her and Josh; it wasn't until after Massie lost her nerve to tell Alicia that she started coming down on Claire about it. She wasn't sure exactly what Claire had said to the Spanish beauty, but whatever it was, Alicia had turned right around to make Massie out to be the devil, that all Massie wanted to do was hurt Claire—and she hadn't even _done_ anything wrong.

"I'm sorry." Massie blinked repeatedly, her head snapping over toward Alicia—unsure if she'd heard correctly, or if Alicia was even speaking to her at all. But then the girl in question turned so she was looking directly at Massie. "I'm sorry I was such a bitch to you, Massie."

"We need drinks." Massie ultimately decided, rummaging through her bag to find her iPhone so she could fire off a couple quick texts—if they were going to do this, the appropriate audience was needed and there _had_ to be alcohol involved. "Lots of them."

A slow smile broke onto Alicia's face, she nodded excitedly in agreement.

* * *

_Early Evening_

It didn't take much convincing—hardly any at all because things were slowly beginning to turn around—and then there they all were, seated around the only four top table in 5Bar Karaoke Lounge on W 32nd street. While Dylan was draped in a slinky tunic that bared cleavage and opaque tights, and Kristen was in leather shorts and a silk camisole under a cropped jacket, Alicia had changed out of her Stepford Wives sweater, swapping it out for something a little more _comfortable—_namely a firecracker red **PAIGE **'Cicely' silk camisole to pair with her black Ralph by Ralph Lauren skinny pants and 'Bordeaux' red Jimmy Choo Romy 100 velvet-and-leather high heels. The pendant she'd been wearing had been left at home and was replaced with a black tortoiseshell crest Y-necklace. Massie had done her lips a sultry ruby-and-onyx butter gloss ombré, her eye makeup was bold and her lashes were full, thick and envious. Just like her wavy hair cascading down her back like a shimmering waterfall. Massie looked just as stunning, Alicia having loaned her something out of her closet—a black Thistle Spire 'Seneca' bodysuit, black Rag Bone highwaisted skinny jeans, and black satin Ted Baker London 'Nualas' peep-toe pumps. All four girls were the epitome of sex. It was perfect for a night on the town as the unofficial Pretty Committee.

Dylan ordered a round of tequila shots, which was probably the worst thing to start off with—but maybe that could be good. Kristen and Alicia were flipping through the karaoke book, while Massie got the appetizer order put in (nobody wants to wake up in a puddle of their own vomit).

_Sweet But Psycho _by Ava Max, Dylan called dibs on singing that song with Massie up on stage. _Party In The USA _is meant for all four girls to do together. _Zombies _by Bad Wolves (originally sung by The Cranberries) is Kristen's poison, with a little help from the crowd and a bold twenty something nameless guy that decided Kristen needed some company. Alicia had surprised the girls by choosing _Before He Cheats _by Carrie Underwood, something that had started out solo but slowly the girls worked their way up on stage with their friend and got the whole bar singing—every woman in the room deep in their feels.

When the girls collapsed back at their table, Alicia's arms were thrown around Dylan's and Massie's shoulders, pulling them close on either side of her. The tip of her nose looked moist and her cheeks were a light shade of pink, if Massie wasn't mistaking Alicia was finally going to let out all those emotions she'd been holding in since the bomb with Claire.

"I'm really lucky to be out with you girls tonight," Alicia said, looking between all three of them. "Massie this was such a good idea."

"You needed it," Massie said, resting her head on Alicia—she knew they were hardly anywhere near the friendship from back in the day, but just being out with the OG Pretty Committee was certainly a pick-me-up.

"So _what happened_?" Dylan asked, reaching across the table and munching on a fried potato skin, licking the excess sour cream from the side.

"Good news first," Alicia released Massie and Dylan our from under her arms to pick at the shrimp cocktail. "I think I'm gonna start working for Channel 7, I had an interview yesterday and the producer Dalton seemed to really think I have potential."

"OMG Leesh, that's amazing!" Kristen exclaimed; Dylan hugged her tightly and placed a sloppy kiss on her cheek. Massie smiled, a little tense around the edges—suddenly feeling bad for stealing her thunder that afternoon to drop the Claire drama in her lap. She had something to be happy about and Massie turned that right around—hopefully she'd be able to make it up to her.

"And the bad news...?" Dylan prompted.

Alicia shared a look with Massie, the expression on her face shifting quickly—it was like a dark cloud had settled over her almost instantly, before turning her attention to the girls. She sucked down the remains of her vodka cranberry, needing a lot more liquid courage than she thought, and placed in another order before releasing a breath she didn't realize needed to be let out.

"Claire and Josh slept together," Alicia simpered.

Kristen, who'd been in the midst of sipping at her own drink, sprayed the neon green, apple-tasting liquid all over the table in surprise. "_What_?!"

"When!" Dylan exclaimed at the same time, shoving a handful of loaded frenchfries in her mouth—she needed to keep herself occupied, and food would help her process this.

"At Skye Hamilton's engagement party," Alicia sighed, tapping her nails against the table top—she eyed the bar longingly, wondering why she couldn't get her drink in .2 seconds.

Kristen and Dylan look dumbfounded, but before they could ask, Alicia blurted out the most vital piece of information—the worst of it all. "_And _she said that she got pregnant."

"But... she had an abortion... right?" Kristen asked worriedly, even though she seemed to already know the answer.

Slowly, Alicia shook her head no.

"That fake bitch," Dylan growled. "The _whole _time she's been keeping this from you?"

"Unfortunately," Massie was the one to speak this time, wanting to insert herself into the conversation. "And she probably would've kept it a secret until the day she died, but I provoked her into telling Alicia."

Kristen's eyes widened. "You _knew_?"

"She called me that morning, and while we were at the breakfast she told me she had sex with Josh." Massie insisted, but before they could berate her she quickly continued, "I tried to tell Alicia the night of her showcase, but chickened out—after that I pushed Claire constantly to tell Leesh what happened, and after a while, I got fed up."

"Shit," both girls breathed out.

"We need more drinks and food, _pronto_." Alicia declared.

* * *

_Midnight_

Hours later, Dylan could still barely wrap her head around the fact Claire and Josh slept together at Skye Hamilton's engagement party—not to mention they had a kid. A _daughter_. The very one Claire led everyone to believe was _Cam_'s. But now that it was aired, at least among the Pretty Committee, Dylan could vaguely pick out the resembles between Shay and Josh, because she knew what to look for. The same sharp nose, the almond-shaped eyes, the full lips. None of that belonged to Claire instead Shay inherited her mother's fair skin, blue eyes, and face shape. The hair could be battled for—it was unruly in curls and the color of mocha, but over time her hair was sure to grow either lighter or darker. There was no Cam in the mix and it hurt Dylan's heart more than she expected it to, simply because Cam was the perfect husband, he'd always been so sweet to Claire, and never shied away from letting the world know how much he loved his wife. He didn't deserve that kind of betrayal—nobody did.

Dylan was riding solo home from the karaoke bar by now, she'd dropped off Kristen at her apartment while Massie and Alicia were taking an Uber back to Massie's townhouse. Her mind was racing a mile a minute, much like her heart, from the amount of alcohol she'd been supplied through the course of the night. With her head rested against the cool glass she began watching the twinkling lights pass by, the tiniest of smiles on her face—not because of Alicia, but because of where she was currently headed. It was a surprise, of course. After her long night with the girls, she was desperately in need of some time with Derrick; she just hoped that he wasn't already asleep.

It wasn't before long that the car slowed, slid easily into a spot right up front, and was shifted into park. The driver let Dylan out from the backseat, and she gave him a twenty dollar bill for bringing her all the way across the city to see Derrick. It was a silent night on Derrick's block, the doorman was tired but friendly. She'd only been to his place a handful of times, mainly they met inconspicuously or Derrick was invited over to her apartment, so she couldn't pinpoint it to memory. Luckily she knew it enough to navigate herself through the eighth floor, gingerly knocking on the green-painted door, rocking lightly on the heels of her boots. It seemed like an eternity before she could see a light flick on from beneath the door, a loud groan emitting from the other side followed by a harsh yawn, and then finally the lock turned with a soft click.

Derrick appeared in a slant of shampoo-yellow light, his dirty blonde hair sticking up in all different directions and his flannel pajama pants rumpled. He'd just rolled out of bed. Dylan felt a little guilty for waking him up in the middle of the night, and hoped that he wouldn't have work early the following morning.

"Hi?" Derrick yawned, rubbing his fist at his tired eyes like a small child. "Dyl, what are you doing here?"

"I..." she giggled into her palm, trying her hardest not to stare at his broad, bare torso. "I wanted to see you."

"It's the middle of the night," he responded gruffly.

Dylan gnashed her teeth at her lower lip, fighting the urge to respond that it's never stopped them from seeing each other before. Instead she said, "I know, but... I was out with the girls and... well, I missed you."

"The girls?"

"Yeah, I went to this karaoke bar on 32nd with Leesh, Kris and Massie." she said.

Derrick's eyebrows furrowed together but he didn't say anything, and if Dylan wasn't mistaking there was a little flicker to his puppy-dog brown eyes when she mentioned Massie's name. She clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, but it was quickly shrugged away as she launched herself at him—her arms circled around his neck, allowing her to pull their bodies flush together. Her glossless lips, as gross as it may have been to her, were on his: hungry, desperate. Needy. He stood there, shocked, as if he'd been thrown off guard—not kissing her back. It was Dylan's test for Derrick and he'd failed, or... he'd passed. Something along those lines, depending the way she looked at it.

"Dyl," he groaned softly, and just when she'd placed that sliver of hope into her head, Derrick gingerly grabbed her by the wrists and removed her arms from around him. He placed them at her sides, his eyes meeting hers with the small step back that he took. "We can't do this."

"Why?" Dylan asked, despite already knowing what was about to come out of his mouth.

To her surprise, Derrick gestured for her to follow him—not to the bedroom but to the sofa, he sat down on the far end of the three-cushion couch and beckoned for Dylan to join him. She knew better than to think something steamy would happen, so to play it safe, she sat on the opposite end, shifting her body to face his.

"Dyl, I think this is... we've had this coming for a long time, don't you think?" Derrick said.

"I guess..." she answered, but really she was confused. "Where is this all coming from, Der?"

"I'm tired of playing this game with you, Dylan. The dynamic we have is awesome, I love getting to know the _other _side of you—the one that isn't in front of cameras or puts on a performance around the Pretty Committee. The real Dylan. I like her, a lot. But we both know that we work better as friends." He started to say, his hands looked like they were shaking a little bit but Dylan couldn't be exactly sure from where she sat.

"We _are _friends." she quipped.

"Friends who just like to have sex with each other," he chuckled softly, but nodded in agreement. "And even _that _is exciting, you always surprise me, which is cool as fuck."

"But." she deadpanned.

"But I don't think this type of thing is working, not anymore." Derrick gave a little shake of his head and let out a small sigh. "Dylan, I want you to be honest with me, okay?" She gave a nod. "How do you feel about me?"

Dylan studied him, as she gave his question a lot more thought than she anticipated. She loved him, she knew that she did, but it wasn't in a way that could compare to how most girls would. She loved the sex with Derrick, she loved kissing Derrick, and having his hands on her body, but she didn't want to be exclusive with him or anyone for that matter. She cherished the friendship she had with him more than she did her other guy friends, and would be devastated if she actually lost him, could no longer talk to him, couldn't look into his eyes and just smile when having a bad day. She got jealous when another girl invaded their private bubble, she was possessive during the threesomes and downright hated the thought of Derrick being intimate with somebody that wasn't her, even though she had no right when she changed her sexual partners more than people changed their underwear.

The silence must've been killing him because he started talking again, "I don't think this little thing of ours is fair, Dylan. I won't lie, there have been a lot of girls I've slept with without telling you, because I didn't see a point in doing so. For one, it's not your business, and if you really put it into perspective, the way your mind sees it is that I'm _cheating _on you or something, but then you're going around sleeping with half the guys in Manhattan."

So badly she wanted to tell him that was untrue, but then she'd be lying through her teeth. Just to keep him close to her. _Selfishly_.

"Derrick, I'm sorry." Dylan gulped. There was the sting of tears behind her eyes but she refused to allow them to fall, why could she possibly want to cry? He was right, this was a conversation in the making for a long time. She didn't expect him to wait around for her, for when _she _saw fit. She knew he must've been having other girls in his bed, but she was Dylan Marvil, and the entitled little brat in her was satisfied that she was the best so he could only want her.

"I don't really think there's anything to be sorry about," Derrick said earnestly.

"Can I ask you something?" He gave a terse nod. "Does any of this have to do with Massie?"

"I like her, Dyl." he mumbled, his voice so soft that it was barely a whisper. "But please don't get mad at her, don't stop talking to her because of me—she really wants to be friends with you again, and nearly cut me out of her life to do so. I was crushed that she stopped answering me, I thought I did something wrong, and I nearly lost my chance with her because of whatever you guys talked about."

Dylan absently scratched at her thigh, careful not to tear a hole in her tights. She thought of the conversation she had with Massie back when they went out for coffee, when she could have sworn there was a twinge of sadness to her friend's amber eyes when she thought that there was something between Derrick and Dylan. It made Dylan's heart ache when she realized how stupid she'd been to not realize that Massie was trying to protect Dylan's feelings by ignoring the person she truly wanted to be with. More than anything Dylan knew she had to stop being selfish. Derrick was right about it not being fair and she needed to let her _friends_ be happy—with each other.

"I should go." Dylan finally said, rising to her feet and rubbing her hand across her forehead.

"Dylan," he groaned. "Do you hate me?"

"I could never." She promised with a small reassuring smile before exiting Derrick's apartment, closing the door behind her with a soft slam—not on purpose, of course.

* * *

_The Next Morning_

The ground thudded beneath Kristen's Adidas sneakers, the end of her ponytail thwacked against her chin with each step she took. Blood pounded behind her ears. It was almost July, and even this early in the morning the sun was blazing down with heat and humidity that would threaten to destroy even Alicia's naturally sleek hair on a _good_ day. Kristen had woken up with a severe hangover-headache before the sun had risen, she'd shoveled two classic bacon-egg-n-cheeses on a roll from the corner deli by her apartment before deciding to go for a run through Central Park. She loved the feel of the wind against her face, the surge of adrenaline in her veins, the peace of being out in the open with little to no people around. Her heart was an erratic rivet in her chest, grinding against her rib cage so harshly it threatened to break free. She only had a few more mornings to herself before it would be time to coach the girls for the summer, then go right back into the swing of things for when school started up again in September. Kristen planned to bask in this for as long as she possibly could.

But being by herself also allowed her thoughts to wander—nothing regarding herself, or even her tedious boy problems, not this time. Instead she found it hard to stop thinking about what Alicia had said last night at the karaoke bar. So hard to believe, yet not a hint of lie could be found, that Claire and Josh were a one night stand the night of Skye's engagement party. That it resulted in a pregnancy. Fuck, did Josh even _know_ that he had a daughter? Did Cam know _anything_? Her mouth tasted like pennies, wondering just how that would effect their decade-long friendship. It wasn't unfathomable to imagine Josh and Cam no longer being friends, but that wasn't something you automatically bounced back from. Especially not when it was kept a secret for over two years.

Needing to catch her breath, Kristen's legs started to wobble beneath her, and she collapsed on one of the park benches. She pulled her phone out from the hidden zipper pocket of her stretchy active wear leggings and exhaled loudly, flicking her ponytail off her sweaty shoulder. Several new notifications had popped up within the few hours since she'd gotten dropped off at her apartment by Dylan around midnight. Alicia had posted a photo on Instagram, the first shot of them all together since Massie left for London back in eighth grade—all four of them looked amazing, even drunk and huddled together in the glitzy woman's restroom at 5Bar Karaoke Lounge. _My forever bitches_, the picture was captioned. Alicia looked sultry and sweet at the same time, something she'd mastered forever ago. Massie was ecstatic, so animated and lively, with an unnamed aura floating around her like her own personal cloud. Dylan had both of arms thrown in the air, the cheesiest smile on her face, and her green eyes lit up. Kristen had to admit, she looked insanely good, her one arm around Alicia's shoulders as she struggled to capture all four girls, as well as the chandelier above their head, and the deep pink-and-black wallpaper in the frame. Her smile was genuine, toothy, and happy. She could remember the last time they'd all been this happy, their last night together at Merri-Lee's New Years Yves party—the only difference between then and now being that Claire was no longer welcome in their lives, not after what she did to Alicia. Could they be friends again? In the distant future, maybe, but certainly not right now. That was ten kinds of wrong and a true friend would never cross that line, married or single.

Clearing her throat, banishing Claire from her thoughts, Kristen scrolled through the comments that appeared after the one she'd left before going to bed. Josh had been one of them, asking what he'd missed. _Oh sweetie, you don't even know the half of it. _She thought to herself, now reminding herself that she needed to check in with Alicia to see how she was holding up. As far as she knew, Alicia had crashed at Massie's townhouse, and was probably going to avoid being around Josh as much as she could until she could swallow that pill.

_Ding_.

A new text message chimed in, surprising Kristen, given how early it still was—and then three more popped up after it. Only, it was Facebook. Not iMessage.

_**Massie Block created the group "FABulous FOUR"  
**_**Massie Block: **_dinner 2n._  
**Massie Block:** _my house._  
**Massie Block:** _7pm._  
**Massie Block:** _xoxo._

Kristen giggled and sent her reply.

**Kristen Gregory:** _was it really necessary to send 4 sep messages?_

Alicia's response came next.

**Alicia Rivera:** _go the fuck to sleep you psycho it's not even 8am._  
**Alicia Rivera:** _mass I hate you for waking me up _

Massie chimed in again.

**Massie Block:** _shut up im making you breakfast_

* * *

**author's note:**_ I know I said I was gonna go more in depth on Massie's relationship with James but this was getting long and I'm writing this on my work computer, which the day is coming to an end. I also feel like it's gonna be more appropriate when they're all at Massie's for dinner, once I get to that point you'll understand why. I'll get started on the next chapter when I get home. Thank you guys for your support._


	9. Ancient History

**author's note: **I would like to make a note that I forgot to mention last chapter, that Alicia has not suddenly accepted Massie back into her life as her BFF. They are slowly getting back to the way things used to be because Alicia was betrayed by Claire, and Massie was the one who pushed her to be honest about it. This chapter will revolve around the issues they all had, pointing toward why Alicia told the girls to stop talking to Massie, and what Massie was dealing with in her too-long relationship with James. This is pretty much a "shit hits the fan" dedication for everyone who's been wondering what really happened to the girl's friendship, featuring the boys.

_Trigger Warning: there will be mentions of domestic violence, suicidal tendencies, drug and alcohol abuse, and rape included in the content below. Please do not continue reading if you are sensitive to these particular subjects, and if it is something you are dealing with, or have dealt with in the past, I'm deeply sorry this happened to you, I pray that you are on the road to healing, and I am here to talk if you ever need somebody to listen._

Thank you.

* * *

_Massie's townhouse . __. ._

Alicia was on her third glass of Merlot by the time everyone started to arrive at Massie's; the entire house was filled with the strong aroma of marinated grilled chicken over field greens, crispy golden brown turkey, baked potatoes with sour cream and chives, roasted corn on the cob soaking in a tray of melted butter, medium-cooked roast top sirloin au jus, and a leafy spring mix salad with a variety of dressings to choose from—the sweet prep of a Thanksgiving dinner. She watched from a distance, everyone mingling obliviously while Massie was upstairs getting ready. Her eyes drifted toward Josh, but when he looked at her she made a point to avert her gaze to somewhere else. He hadn't bothered talking to her, or even tried, but she couldn't be _too_ mad—he's been blowing her phone up since yesterday afternoon. Josh was otherwise transfixed in a conversation with Kemp and Chris Plovert, who she realizedshe hadn't seen much of lately and made a mental note to see how he was doing. Dylan was making her "I'm so fascinated" face as she guzzled her own wine while Kristen droned on about something, her back purposely toward Kemp so she wouldn't have to look at him. Not that Alicia blames her—she was filled in on that dilemma and tried not to take it personal that Kristen had excluded her from that dinner. Derrick was making wide gestures with his hands, talking animatedly to Cam, who had arrived alone and was nodding with a big smile on his face—Massie must not have mentioned _why _his wife wasn't invited to the dinner, otherwise there was no way he'd have that relaxed, happy expression on his face. A knife was twisted into Alicia's chest, she felt his pain so badly, and he didn't even know.

It wasn't before long that the sound of stiletto heels clicking against the smooth marble echoed from the staircase, alerting them of Massie's arrival. It wasn't a formal dinner, but Massie was a fashion goddess and certainly her crowd expected her still to be a ten. Her outfit was so simple, but glamorous—a pair of light denim Calvin Klein skinny jeans, a low cut lavender camisole under a shrunken short sleeve black motorcycle jacket, and black Christian Louboutin's. Her chestnut hair was in its naturally wavy state, with half of it twisted into a diamond encrusted clip, and a few strands cooling around her face. Red lipstick and black mascara was the only visible source of makeup on her pretty face.

"Sorry I kept you waiting," Massie immediately apologized once she was on the main floor. "Let's eat!"

The men hollered in approval, it was obvious that they were both hungry and drunk—based on the empty tumbler glasses that were laying around, some were a few deeper than others. They gathered quickly around the long oak table in Massie's dining room, choosing carefully who they wanted to sit next to. Cam was next to Josh, who was next to Kemp—across from him was Derrick, Kristen, and Dylan, respectively. Alicia and Massie both held court at opposite ends of the table. If any of them were being honest, Alicia especially, it felt a little weird to not have Claire there—but to the Latina at least the feeling quickly subsided. Food was dished out, everyone helped themselves to as much food as they wanted, Massie didn't want any leftovers.

Alicia pushed a thinly sliced piece of roast beef around her plate with the prongs of her fork, her eyes occasionally flickering to where Cam and Josh sat together—luckily they were on Massie's end of the table, but it was becoming increasingly hard seeing them act so casual. Buddy-buddy. They were so blissfully ignorant, and she envied them for not having that same burden, all because of Claire. She rose from her chair just enough to be able to grab the bottle of wine closest to her, courtesy of Massie placing three around the table for her friends, and filled her glass to the rim. Massie eyed her curiously from the opposite end but said nothing. For a moment the only sound was their forks and knifes scraping against the plates, Alicia grit her teeth to keep from screeching. It was one of her biggest pet peeves.

"How's Claire doing? I haven't seen her in a while," Josh was the one to break the silence and she truly, deeply, felt the urge to stab in the eye with her fork. She knew his question was directed at Cam but just hearing her name made her cringe.

"She's been staying with her mom the last couple days, so that's a good question," Cam chuckled lightly. "She said that there was some things she needed to take care of, I think. Her mom's got a lot going on right now, with Todd especially."

"Damn," Josh murmured. "Sucks, man. Hope everything's okay."

Massie's eyes lifted to meet Alicia's gaze, hard and sharp around the edges. Dylan, thankfully to Alicia's right, patted her knee sympathetically, gently, under the table. Derrick leaned in to whisper something to Massie, who only responded with a brisk nod but Alicia wasn't sure what it had been about. The kind gesture and the icy glare combined with the intolerable amount of wine swirling around inside of Alicia was threatening to take its toll, and not resulting with her keeling over puking her guts up. Cam started rambling something else involving Claire, and Josh fed into the conversation with ease—she couldn't believe it, and maybe she was overreacting, but it was killing her that Josh even showed the slightest interest in Claire's whereabouts, her wellbeing. _Anything_.

"Why do you care so much?" Alicia blurted, it had originally been meant to be a thought, but she couldn't stop herself from speaking aloud. She was gripping her knife in her right hand, pressing it dangerously into the plate, threatening to shatter the fine China.

"I'm just being a concerned citizen, I don't know if you noticed but Claire isn't here, which is weird, because I thought you guys were all best friends again." Josh said, and the earnest tone in his voice enraged the slightly tipsy, if not drunk, Alicia.

"Yeah, well, you thought wrong." She quipped, ignoring the cut-it-out motions from Massie and Dylan kicking her lightly in the shin under the table to get her to shut her mouth before she dug her own grave. "Why would I want to be _friends_ with somebody who slept with my_ boyfriend_?"

Josh—confusion written all over his face, rather than guilt—opened his mouth to speak but it was Cam who cut him off, "What the fuck are you talking about, Alicia?" She shouldn't have been, but it surprised Alicia to hear such sharpness in Cam's voice. He was usually such a mellow guy.

Not wanting to lose her fire, she immediately shook off her surprise and continued with, "Claire and Josh slept together, didn't you know?"

"No. I didn't." Cam swallowed hard, even from where she sat she could see the bobbing of his Adam's apple. The boys must have some kind of sixth sense when it comes to their friends, because Derrick and Kemp were already out of their chairs—Kemp's hand was gripping at Cam's shoulder, who tried to stand up but was immediately shoved back down, while Derrick was inserting himself into the tight space between the two chairs to have some distance between Cam and Josh.

"What the fuck is she talking about?" Cam pleaded, venom dripping in his voice, as he looked around the room for some answers. Kristen and Dylan narrowly avoided looking in his direction, while Massie just sat there, her face stony, body unmoving.

"Go ahead, Josh. Tell him." Alicia hated the way her own voice cracked. "Tell him what happened at Skye Hamilton's engagement party."

A fire blazes in Cam's eyes at the mention of the engagement party, she could see the setting of his teeth as they were clenched together—the muscles in his jaw taut. But he said nothing, rather he waited for some kind of clarity from Josh, who looked like a puppy that had been kicked down by a steel-toed boot. "I—I... I don't... it just... man, Cam... buddy..."

"_Fuck you_." Cam spat, shoving himself out from under Kemp's firm hand, nearly knocking the two males on either side of him over, and squeezed a path away from the table.

"_Cam_!" Massie shouted, finally breaking out of her trance, and at first Alicia was confused—but then she saw blood pouring from his aristocratic nose, his teeth quickly staining red as his mouth was filled with that same salty substance.

Cam's knuckles were already purpling from the impact, but he didn't stick around long enough for anyone else to see what might happen next. Instead he stormed out of the dining room, and disappeared somewhere in the house—the only reason they knew he hadn't left entirely was because Massie didn't see him through the window. Derrick brought Josh into the downstairs bathroom to clean him up, while the girls started cleaning up the table and Kemp excused himself to make a phone call outside—dinner was over, nobody was in the mood to sit there anymore, nobody was gonna eat anything else. The cleaning staff rushed in to grab everything from the girls, not daring them to do anything, not even so much as lift a finger. Nobody was complaining, that's for sure.

Massie's live-in housekeeper prepared coffee on the Keurig machine for the girls while they waited for things to settle down, except Alicia stuck strictly to her wine, with the occasional sip of Dylan's light-and-sweet coffee. None of the girls knew what to say, but they could see the wheels turning in Massie's head as she fought to think of something to break the awkward silence hanging above them like a dark cloud. But sitting there, all four of them, while the boys tended to the damage done mentally and physically, Massie stared at her friends with questions in her eyes.

"What's up, Mass?" Kristen immediately asked.

"Why did we stop being friends?" She didn't hesitate, searching each of their faces for some kind of explanation because she wasn't exactly sure that she wanted to _hear_ it. Her first instinct was to look at Alicia, the one who'd _told _the girls to stop talking to Massie in the first place—the alpha who vowed to never become anything like middle school Massie, and had more than likely been far worse as the years went on.

Dylan and Kristen exchanged a private look, then slid their gaze over to Alicia expectantly.

"It was pretty childish of me, and petty." Alicia admitted with a small sigh, trading out her now empty wine glass for Dylan's mug of piping hot coffee. Dylan immediately asked for a new one from one of the passing staff members. "I mean, I didn't really think our friendship would last, y'know, with you being so far away."

"And you guys just went along with it?" the brunette inquired.

"I don't know why I stopped talking to you, Alicia said it wasn't a big deal, it wasn't like you were making the effort either... but we all knew that was a lie." Kristen sulked. "I also had the whole deal with the Soccer Sisters going on for a while, and after that fell through, I was desperate because I'd started to lose touch with everyone, and it was just so much easier with Alicia and Dylan... I'm sorry, Massie."

"I followed blindly, being so caught up with the show, my spin-off, Derrick... I wasn't a very good friend, and I'm sorry, Mass. It wasn't right to just exclude you from everything just because you were in London, I was just being stupid and immature." Dylan said.

"You all got mad at me at one point or another for trying to control who you hung out with, talked to, and whatever else under the sun." Massie pointedly reminded them, not bothering to hide her annoyance.

"I know," all three of them said in unison.

"But, I also knew deep down that no matter what, you could move to the moon and you'd still be the ultimate alpha." Alicia swallowed hard. "And I was jealous. I wanted to prove to everyone that I didn't need you around to be a better alpha, that I could lead just as fabulously as if it were dance."

"So you just sped up the process by cutting me off entirely." Massie said simply, though she didn't seem the slightest offended. But then again Massie was really good at hiding her emotions.

"It was really shitty of me to do, and it irked me that Cl—that _she_ was still on your side for so long." Alicia fumbled over the blonde's name, making a sour face as if she'd just sucked on a lemon.

"It made me feel really alone," Massie swallowed hard, and Alicia could tell where she'd planned on gearing this conversation from the start. She was gonna tell Dylan and Kristen about what she went through while dating James, and it made her heart ache—adding to her guilt for cutting Massie off all this time.

"Didn't you have friends in London?" Dylan asked, but not in a mocking tone, she sounded concerned as any friend should.

"They were James' friends, hardly could call them mine—it didn't really matter 'cus we didn't have anything in common. They all liked to party, ale and cocaine were in their stomachs more than food." She let out a small, bitter laugh. "James especially."

"Mass..." Alicia murmured, she could feel that harsh burn at the back of her throat. She was going to cry.

"And they all laughed, thought it was amusing the way he would knock me around." Her voice was pinched. "Whenever we would go out, he'd pretty much ignore me the entire night, if I tried to go home without him _that's_ when he decided to pay attention to me . . . by grabbing me by the throat and slamming me up against the wall, saying how embarrassing it was that I wanted to leave, I needed to learn how to have fun and stop being such a stuck-up bitch all the time." Absently, Massie's hand fluttered up to her neck, as she brushed her fingers over where she'd have to apply cover up every single morning to conceal the bruises he left on her skin. "When I tried to retaliate to show him that I wasn't some pathetic woman he could just push around, that's when he would hit me or punch me. Kick me while I was down, both mentally and physically." Another bitter laugh escaped her, and there was a glimmering to her amber eyes, as she seemed lost in thought, looking down at the floor with a shake of her head. "The worst of it, I think, was when I didn't want to have sex . . . I won't get graphic, but, I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Holding me down. Forcing himself onto me, whether it be in public or private. Didn't matter if his friends were around, he'd throw me down and try to shove himself inside of me. . . he was a pig, but he was, well, all I had."

She didn't see her friends move from where they were sitting but the next thing she knew, six arms tangled around her like a protective net and squeezed her tight.

"My mother thought the world of him, he was the future CEO to his father's company and didn't think there could be anything wrong with James. The epitome of perfection. I always joked with her that if he was so highly in her standards she should date him." Massie cleared her throat, but they knew she holding back her tears. "So I didn't really have her on my side, couldn't go to my parents about what was happening—it would crush them, if they believed me. And it made me really depressed for a while, it only got worse after me and James left for California, because it was non-stop partying and James never failed to remind me that he came all the way across the world just for me. Not that it really seemed to matter to him because he had no problem cheating on me, snorting cocaine off some hooker's ass or getting random girl at a party knocked up, then forcing them to have an abortion."

Despite already having this knowledge, Alicia couldn't help but gasp. Dylan's eyes widened, and Kristen shifted uncomfortably where she sat . . . they started to piece together why Massie was so angered by what Claire had done, why it bothered her that she never said anything and continued to lie.

"I didn't do anything too drastic because part of me still wanted to live and overcome the darkness that told me I should just do everyone a favor, to listen to James for once and kill myself." She didn't know when they started coming, but soon enough the tears were pouring down her cheeks, hot and fast. It was becoming difficult to understand what Massie was saying, but after being friends for so long, they were able to decode it just fine. She didn't go into great detail about her methods, just that she did it to where it would look like it was an accident, not a suicide. Drowning in the ocean after having a few drinks. Not bothering to look both ways when crossing a busy street. The temptation of veering her car off the road, slamming headfirst into a guard rail or tree. Accidentally knocking her plugged-in straightener or curling iron into a tub full of water while she was in it. She'd even toyed with the idea of a drug overdose, but the substances never touched her system, and she was thankful for that now.

A heavy silence filled the room, the girls huddled as close as they possibly could around Massie on the winged chair, tightening their grips as if to say, _we're never letting go_. The only sound was the brunette's hiccups and sniffles, her shallow breathing while she struggled to calm down—for the moment, then it was broken by the sharp intake of somebody else's breathing, followed by a growling, "I'm gonna fucking kill him."

All four girls whipped around at the sudden venom dripping from their voice, so deep and hostile, to have their eyes fall upon a very murderous-looking Derrick Harrington. Massie felt afraid, but not for herself. There was a steely tension to his broad shoulders, his eyes were narrowed, and the muscles in his jaw were taut. Like if he clenched his teeth any tighter, he'd break all of them without a second thought. He stood there, sharp around the edges. She could see into his thoughts plain and clear, he _would_ kill James if he ever showed his face in New York.


End file.
